Ladies and gentlemen,
If you would like to carry on posting in here for the RnR and clean up after the last mission. Edit: It has been decided to put a two month time jump in here, so the ship will be ready to leave on a new mission when Rob gets back.
Subplot 2: RnR / Rebuild
6 posts • Page 1 of 1
Re: Subplot 2: RnR / Rebuild
by Laurie on Sun Mar 29, 2009 8:30 pm
Marine Gymnasium, USS Freedom, 0958hrs
David say cross legged on a mat deep in meditation. He could here the sound of the marine using a treadmill, the steady pound of his feet and regular breathing. There was the sound of the life support system gently adding air to the room and removing it for recycling. As he moved deeper into his mind everything seemed to slow down. The pound of feet slowed to him even though the marine was still moving at the same speed.
The door sounded like it was being opened by snails. He began to come out of his deep mediation as he realised his sparring partner had arrived.
Meditation was David's way of gaining an advantage over the massive Vulcan Stron. Stron was huge, built like the side of a barn. In a test of strength, David would be tossed aside like a rag doll. However, he had speed. Although naturally weaker than pure Vulcans, but stronger than humans, he had become faster than average using a combination of physical and mental exercises his father had come up with.
For the past 6 weeks David and Stron had been sparring using wooden weapons. The rules were simple; three hits one the round, but a block with the staff stopped the chain, same if the opponent made a hit.
"Are you ready David?" Stron asked.
There was only one rule in the gym; leave your attitude, issues and rank at the door.
"Yes. You?"
Stron picked up one of the staffs from a container beside the map. He flicked his wrist, twirling the staff as he did. David lifted the other one and touched it to Stron's initiating the duel.
For several minutes they moved not making many attacks. David lashed out and Stron whacked him on the back. This however was part of the strategy. David rolled as he was hit on the back, coming up behind Stron to slap him three times on the back. He grinned slightly at his cunning.
"You are a little slow today," David said, wiping some sweat from his brow. "Keep this up and this will be an easy work out for me."
Stron looked at him with his usual cool Vulcan look. "Your attempts to goad me into being rash will not work." He tapped David's staff, and before David could react, grabbed him by the front of his vest, tossed him over his massive shoulder and laid him on his back. Taking his time, Stron roughly hit him on the chest. Hits had to be hard to count, so he was making sure they counted.
"Are you going to tell me you weren't ready again," Stron said as he pulled David to his feet.
"I wasn't," he muttered.
Since the incident with the Ravagers the marines had been training hard to counter creatures like them. Many marines had come up short in how to handle such savage monsters and David didn't want anymore to be lost if they met the Ravagers again.
David say cross legged on a mat deep in meditation. He could here the sound of the marine using a treadmill, the steady pound of his feet and regular breathing. There was the sound of the life support system gently adding air to the room and removing it for recycling. As he moved deeper into his mind everything seemed to slow down. The pound of feet slowed to him even though the marine was still moving at the same speed.
The door sounded like it was being opened by snails. He began to come out of his deep mediation as he realised his sparring partner had arrived.
Meditation was David's way of gaining an advantage over the massive Vulcan Stron. Stron was huge, built like the side of a barn. In a test of strength, David would be tossed aside like a rag doll. However, he had speed. Although naturally weaker than pure Vulcans, but stronger than humans, he had become faster than average using a combination of physical and mental exercises his father had come up with.
For the past 6 weeks David and Stron had been sparring using wooden weapons. The rules were simple; three hits one the round, but a block with the staff stopped the chain, same if the opponent made a hit.
"Are you ready David?" Stron asked.
There was only one rule in the gym; leave your attitude, issues and rank at the door.
"Yes. You?"
Stron picked up one of the staffs from a container beside the map. He flicked his wrist, twirling the staff as he did. David lifted the other one and touched it to Stron's initiating the duel.
For several minutes they moved not making many attacks. David lashed out and Stron whacked him on the back. This however was part of the strategy. David rolled as he was hit on the back, coming up behind Stron to slap him three times on the back. He grinned slightly at his cunning.
"You are a little slow today," David said, wiping some sweat from his brow. "Keep this up and this will be an easy work out for me."
Stron looked at him with his usual cool Vulcan look. "Your attempts to goad me into being rash will not work." He tapped David's staff, and before David could react, grabbed him by the front of his vest, tossed him over his massive shoulder and laid him on his back. Taking his time, Stron roughly hit him on the chest. Hits had to be hard to count, so he was making sure they counted.
"Are you going to tell me you weren't ready again," Stron said as he pulled David to his feet.
"I wasn't," he muttered.
Since the incident with the Ravagers the marines had been training hard to counter creatures like them. Many marines had come up short in how to handle such savage monsters and David didn't want anymore to be lost if they met the Ravagers again.
- Laurie
- Marine Captain (green)
- Posts: 25
- Joined: Wed Nov 05, 2008 4:10 pm
Re: Subplot 2: RnR / Rebuild
by Kelas Vann on Sun Apr 05, 2009 4:54 pm
OOC Warning: This is a HUGE JP, all character development between Kelas Vann and Kelen Regas.
Summary: Kelas is challenged by another Sargosian over certain beliefs, which culminates in a holodeck fight and a surprising (for Kelas) outcome.
Kelen sat facing the other marine and held the look of concentration and strain on his face. His arms and shoulders were bare, exhibiting the makings that would identify him to any Sargosian who happened by, but since he had rarely seen another Sargosian during his service in the fleet; this was for him and not them.
And he was making a good show of struggling with the other Marine. True, he wasn't really exerting himself at all, a Sargosian was generally stronger than even the fittest of human males, but that didn't stop him from keeping up the ruse. He had learned long ago that it was a far better tactic to allow the Marines he served with to save face, rather than to embarrass them with unnecessary shows of prowess. It was odd, because in his mind he was certain that another warrior of his race would have ended the contest quickly.
Finally when he thought the arm wrestling contest had gone on long enough he relaxed his arm, feigning exhaustion, and the back of his hand slammed into the tabletop. He smiled and shook out his arm as though the strain had made him sore and stiff. "Alright, alright, Matt," he said with a laugh, "You win."
The other Marines at the table laughed too. Kelen had a ready smile, and most of the Marines who served with him always felt comfortable, which is what he wanted in the first place.
"Best two of three Kelen?" Matt Danniger asked with a sly grin.
Kelen held up his hands as if in mock surrender. "Don't you have guys have dates?" he asked as he laughed. He glanced across the way to a table which held three WM's who also watched the group intently. One of the women whispered to the others and the soothing sound of laughter drifted over. "I think you've already proven your prowess enough for one day."
"Alright then," Matt said with a grin, "but don't think you are getting out of here without a proper send-off."
As the three Marines stood and wandered toward the women, Kelen grabbed the mug of coffee sitting next to him and pulled it close. He closed his eyes and allowed the warmth of the cup, and the steam, to wash over and through him. None of them had noticed that he had not even broken a sweat. It was, he reflected, because people only saw what they wanted to see - a problem he could easily identify with.
The blonde woman sat at the table in the corner noticed though. But that was because she easily read the markings on the back of his hands, arms and shoulders. They were similar to the ones that covered her own. But, like every other night she'd come in here, her arms and most of her hands were covered by long sleeves. She was lucky the current human fashion was for long, long sleeves. As long as she was careful she could keep her own markings covered and just watch him.
She took another sip from her glass and sat back. She hadn’t seen another Sargosian for years. Not one she wasn't related to anyway and, despite not wanting to, she'd found herself drawn to this bar night after night as the Lakota was repaired. She never stayed long, only one drink... which she was now finishing, and then she left.
She never spoke to him, never looked at him directly. She didn’t know that she wanted to...
She snorted and stood, of course she wanted to talk to him. But she didn’t know how to start and before long, the ship would be gone and that would be that. Crossing the room she put her empty glass on the bar and headed for the door.
Kelen opened his eyes in time to see her move, and he watched her covertly as she deposited the empty and started to leave. He had seen her every night now, and she intrigued him. The very thought of a warrior of his status being ‘intrigued’ struck him as funny then and he laughed as he rose from the table.
His curiosity wasn’t just because this woman was physically attractive, she moved like him. Or close enough as far as Kelen was concerned, and if she wasn’t Sargosian then he was a newt. He crossed the space between the table and door in long ground eating strides, flowing through cat like. He wasn’t stalking her, but that was how he moved by instinct.
“Excuse me?” Kelen called when he was close to her, “Can I talk to you?”
Crap. He'd seen her. Briefly Kelas debated ignoring him or simply making a break for it but she instantly squashed the thought. Shoving her hands in her pockets she turned.
"Uhmm, sure. Can I help you with something?" she asked, keeping her voice neutral. She wasn't in uniform, wasn't wearing anything that could identify what ship she was with so what was the harm?
"You're Sargosian," he said simply. She was breathtakingly beautiful, he decided as he talked. Not that it would make any difference. He rarely had the opportunity he had now. "And I rarely get to talk to anyone from home. I was hoping we might share a drink, and some memories."
Kelen, being Kelen had taken three nights and all of this conversation for it to register that something was amiss. "You cover your arms and hands," he said with surprise in his voice. To his people, the tattoos were a symbol of pride. To cover them, even for someone like him, was unusual. "May I ask why? Don't you want people to know who you are?"
Kelas just looked back at him. She desperately wanted to talk to him, share stories and reminisce. But if she sat down... she'd have to take her hands out of her pockets and she'd have to explain why she covered up. It was something she didn't like doing but to have him see her arm would be worse.
"We can talk," she said finally, her indecision and a little of the longing showing on her face for a split second. She nodded back towards the bar, "After you." She didn't say anything else, just watched him. It wasn't a hostile silence, just one of a woman used to being obeyed. And she kept her interest well hidden. He was handsome, well built, good history by the look of him and...She was infertile. It sucked to be her at times.
Kelen turned and led the way back toward the bar. It was oddly comforting to know someone from his home was right there. That he could just reach out and touch her. Well, perhaps he could touch her if he wanted to get a broken arm, but the sentiment was the same. She was or had been a warrior. The grazers didn't move like this, didn't have the grace or unspoken threat to their gait.
"It's okay you know," he said absently as they neared the door. "If you don't want me to know who you are it's fine with me. I'm not used to it, but I'm just happy to have someone to talk with. And it's enough for me to know that we share heritage." Sometimes Kelen just talked too much. It was another way he differed from most of his people. Usually only Dal came anywhere close to understanding.
"Two coffee's please," Kelas said as the waitress approached them, no doubt drawn by the lean and handsome warrior opposite. She'd seen how they reacted to him. Hell, she would be under other circumstances.
"And you'd really be happy with that?" Kelas asked, her eyebrow arched. She took her hands out of her pockets and sat down, resisting the urge to bury them in her lap again and folded her arms, resting on the table in front of her. "All you'd have to do is query the base computer for other Sargosians on board. Trust me, the list is short."
"Of course I wouldn't be happy," Kelen laughed. "But I don't own you. I don't have the right to demand your name or inquire as to your lineage" He shrugged his shoulders and sighed. "And yes, I could well look you up on the station Lcars system. But if you really don't want me to know, what advantage do I gain by intruding?"
"Look, I know we are supposed to be all about showing off who we are," He said spreading his arms wide in surrender, "and yes, I would love to know your name, see who you are and what you have done. It's inside me to want to know." He looked at her for a moment with barely disguised pleading in his eyes before he naturally replaced it with understanding. "You must have a reason for covering up though, and those are yours."
Puppy dog eyes. Kelas almost groaned aloud. To look the way he did, with the birth tattoos she could see on the inside of his arm and still be able to pull puppy dog eyes was just not fair. Some deity somewhere hated her. Seriously hated her. She could feel herself weakening even before the waitress set the mugs in front of them.
"Kelas... Vann," she admitted, wrapping her hands around her mug and affording him a glimpse of the marks across the back of her hands as she did. "And you're Kelen Regas. I don't have the same scruples you do," she added with a half smile.
So she was interested. It was good to know, though he quickly discarded the calculations his mind began to toss at him. Vann was a powerful clan and a powerful name. Some years ago he would have been interested in an advantageous pairing, but now he was only interested in the woman. A lot had changed for Kelen because of the war. "Well, I'll keep that in mind if I ever need to hide something from you," he said with a smile of his own."It's very nice to finally meet you Kelas."
He noted the way their names went together and frowned a moment, it had taken him time to break the ingrained responses of his heritage, and he didn't want to step back now. If Kelas decided she wanted him, he would know. Sargosian women weren't shy.
"So you out rank me then lead warrior Kelas," he said with a smile, "good to know." He meant it only in half jest, though there was some truth to the statement as well. She was first regen, just like him, so their ages couldn't be far apart, and yet she had outstripped him before the war ended. It was something to keep in mind. "I'm transferring to another ship," he offered, "Though my orders haven't come through yet, so I'm in limbo at the moment. I really am glad I caught you."
She smiled and lifted her coffee mug. "I wasn't going to say anything. Didn't think you'd notice me," she admitted. "My ships in for repair, I won't be here long." She flicked him a glance over her mug, silence settling between them for a long moment. Now she was here, she didn't know what to say.
Think Fleet, she told herself. The old ways don't matter anymore. She buried her nose in her mug. She needed to believe that, and stay away from other Sargosians because his interested manner would disappear as soon as he knew.
Kelen wasn't always the most observant, he knew, but he wasn't an idiot. How could he possibly miss someone who stood out as much as Kelas? "I'd have to be an idiot not to notice you," He said before he realized he was speaking out loud.
"What I meant to say," he rephrased after a moment, "Is that you are a very attractive woman Kelas. Even if you were not Sargosian I would have noticed you and wanted to talk. The fact that you are Sargosian is a bonus, it means we can be friends and with very few exceptions I don't have to worry about out living you."
She froze at the word 'attractive', her mug halfway to her lips. Cursing to herself she tried to put it down but her hands shook so much all she managed to do was spill coffee all over herself. She hissed curses under her breath and swiped her free hand down her arm, trying to get rid of the hot liquid out of the fabric.
Friends, she reminded herself. He said friends. That was good, she could do friends.
Kelen Regas grabbed a cloth from the table and reached over to wipe some of the liquid away as best he could. "I'm sorry," he said with a frown. "I shouldn't have been so forward. I forget that not everyone likes direct."
"I'm fine, it's fine, honestly," she told him, pulling her arm away in case he decided to investigate the sodden fabric. "Forward doesn't bother me... honestly," she assured him, grabbing his wrist to stop him dabbing at her sleeve.
The instant she touched him, an electric shock jumped between them and she gasped. Quickly she smothered the sound, deliberately not looking at him now as she mopped up, then sat back down with a determined smile. "See all done."
Kelen frowned and looked up Kelas at her touch. Suddenly he wasn't so concerned with her privacy, and it never crossed his mind to see that it wasn't normal for him.
"Kelas," he said as he held out his hands, "I'd like to see your arms now." It wasn't so much a command, it was more a request, but the tone of his voice had changed with her touch. His hand hovered there a moment shaking, and his mind kept screaming for him to grab her arm and pull the sleeves back.
They were both on their feet, tension drawing tight between them. Kelas looked at his hand as though it were a snake, poised and ready to strike. Slowly she shook her head, her expression wary. She didn't want to show him... didn't want to see his expression change and know why.
"This was a bad idea..." she muttered, backing away and turning to run. Escape as fast as she could.
Kelen Regas moved fast. Possibly faster than he ever had in his life. He stepped right and forward and His right arm shot out, his hand closed about Kelas' wrist.
"What?" he croaked out in a deep growl. He couldn't understand why her attempt to run had made him angry, but it was more puzzling that it had hurt him, "Why am I not worthy to know your tale Kelas, a Setarn not good enough for you?"
With his spare hand he reached up and ripped the tank shirt down the center, revealing the two small marriage tattoos on his chest. He stabbed his thumb at them. "Hand fasted," he continued to growl, "...twice. Once to a woman who survived my first battle with me. The other to a Warrior from Jayce who my family felt was beneath me. Why am I not good enough to know you Kelas?"
To know you he had said, and he had meant it on so many levels. But how could he ever truly know another Sargosian in even the most basic way if he had not read her life?
"Let me go," she snapped, pushing at him hard but to no avail. He was like a bloody cliff and as impossible to budge. Why had she not realised he was this solid?
"And I don't give a monkey's bloody uncle about what rank you are... Warlord or civilian it makes no damn difference," she was shaking with rage, but there was another note in her voice. A voice made low and husky with emotion. She broke his grip with a twist of her wrist and stepped back.
"You want to know?" She demanded suddenly. "It's not you who's not good enough," she shoved her sleeve up to the elbow and turned the arm out. It was clear, unmarked. "You happy now?"
He'd frozen, as she knew he would. Disappointed, annoyed and miserable, Kelas yanked her sleeve down and turned to go.
"Stop!" Kelen yelled the moment she turned to walk away for the second time, "Stop trying to run away from me and look at me Kelas." His heart was in his throat and he didn't even see the crowd that was now staring at the two of them. Two Starfleet Security officers were now watching him with interest they hadn't shown before.
"Look . . . at . . . me, Kelas," He yelled again, each word slowly punctuated with a sort of injured growling. He swept his right arm up for her and everyone else to see. "I have children. Three beautiful children. I can marry whomever I want and I can always make more children whenever I go home. Hell, I can even have as many lovers as I choose."
Possibly not the best choice of phrasing, he realized, but he had gone too far already to stop now. "I don't give a damn if you don't have children," Kelen said in a softer voice now. "And I don't care if that means you can't have children. It happens. Doesn't change my opinion of you one whit."
She couldn't help but respond to the order, looking up at him through the fall of her hair. Whatever she'd expected, it hadn't been that. Not such a passionate and violent response. She motioned the security officers down, Kelen didn't know who she was in relation to her ship but they sure did. She didn't want them wading into what was essentially a private matter.
"I can't," she confirmed, "I was a sniper in the war. Keta-seventeen poisoning." She arched an eyebrow. "Marry whoever you want is it? Why, you angling for another marriage Warrior?"
"For the right woman?" Kelen said, the edge slowly fading from his voice, "Always." And there is was. It was a simple truth, but mostly that was how he was. Ask a question, expect an answer.
"But my shawl isn't finished yet," In truth he hadn't gotten as far as he should have only because he had lost hope of finding anyone while travelling within Starfleet. "And you've already decided for me that you aren't good enough. I say you are wrong, but as the inferior in this conflict it means I have to challenge you to a physical trial or back down."
A slightly feral look crossed his face before he smoothed it back into normal Kelen. If any Sargosian would label him normal anyway. "So what do you say Lead," He laughed, "Are you ready to admit that you are good enough for any man, or do we scrap to prove it? I am Kelen Tarn Regas, Setarn warrior and lead scout of the Dark Ravens, and I challenge you to prove me wrong."
Kelas frowned, following his twisted logic. "Okay, let me get this straight. You're challenging me because I said I wasn't good enough for you?" That didn't follow the normal logic of a challenge. He should only be challenging her if she'd said she was TOO good for him. It was a get out clause that had always stood her in good stead before. "That's just twisted!"
He just looked at her, one eyebrow slightly raised. Kelas laughed in disbelief, shaking her head. "You're serious." Her smile dropped as her manner changed. She couldn't let a challenge go unanswered.
"Kelas Idirianna Vann. Lead Warrior. Sniper. Wildcats." She said, her speech clipped. "When and where?" She asked, as the lower ranked, he had the choice.
Kelen held his chin and head high. His back was straight, which would have emphasized that he was a little short for a warrior, at least under normal circumstances. Today however, he was filed with a mixture of pride, anger and hurt he had never felt before. He had no idea where it was coming from, but it made him feel a giant.
"Here, now," He said in a deep rumbling voice. It was so different from his normal tone that it nearly startled him. What the hell are you doing Kelen he asked himself silently. "I'll give you the choice. Arm wrestle here, or we hit the holodeck for some trench fighting - weaponless."
She eyed him up and and nodded. Arm wrestling she didn't stand much of a chance. Sargosians might be stronger than the average humanoid but within their own species strength ratios were still stacked in the male favour.
"Trench, if you think you can handle it," she added with a small grin of her own. She might be petite but she knew how to handle herself and, besides, she'd gotten a good look at his marks and he'd only seen part of hers. She turned and headed for the door, "Computer, reserve a holodeck for me please. Vann, K... from the Lakota. Hmmm... book for two hours. Come on handsome, you're on."
Less than ten minutes later they were stood outside of holodeck seventeen, waiting for the previous occupants to exit. Neither had spoken much on the way down, both watching each other covertly. To Kelas' surprise, he'd left his friends back up in the bar, even though they had wanted to come along.
The door slid open. Kelas barely noticed the group who left, rolling her shoulders instead as she motioned for him to precede her. She was going to have to take her shirt off. It wasn't a problem, she was wearing a cami underneath but still... the thought of nothing covering her arms provoked a mixed reaction.
She stood to one side as he instructed the computer then pulled the t-shirt over her head as familiar trenches formed around them. Not looking at him she folded it neatly and dropped it on top of a crate for wont of anywhere else. Finally she looked up, knowing he was studying the swirls and symbols across her skin. Slowly she turned so he could see her shoulders as well. He might as well read all of it before they started.
Quelling a small shiver in the pit of her stomach Kelas looked over her shoulder. "You ready or do you want to leave this nonsense and forget all about it?"
"What's nonsense is you thinking you aren't good enough," Kelen said with a wry smile. "If I give up now I won't have the chance to make you admit there is no Sargosian too good for you." Okay, so perhaps that didn't come out right, but under the circumstances there could be no backing down. He had a point to make, and she was going to hear him. And if he lost? He didn't want to think about it.
Kelen ripped off the remains of the Shirt he had torn earlier. He started to toss it aside and then glanced at it ruefully. It had taken him weeks to embroider the swirls and lines of his clan's marking over the top of the Dark raven's symbol, and there it sat still on the back of the ruined tank shirt. "Dammit," he muttered, "Waste of good silk."
Then he looked back up at her and frowned. Those swirls told him that he might not win this one, but he had to try anyway. He'd already known her to be a lead warrior. You just didn't advance that high by accident.
And if he failed? He'd be back again and again until she took his point. "Unless you want to admit that the births are only an attempt to keep up our numbers," He said suddenly. "And that it has absolutely no bearing on your value as a soldier or a mate?"
She shrugged one shoulder as she changed stance. "Now I didn't say it had anything to do with my abilities as a soldier now did I?" she pointed out silkily. "You finished yapping or do you plan to talk me into submission instead of fighting?"
She didn't give him chance to answer. Like most trench fighters, Kelas fought dirty and she wasn't going to give him a chance to get comfortable or wait for him to hit her first. They could both take a lot of damage, yeah, but that didn't mean she was going to stand there and let him hit her.
Her first strike caught him by surprise; he sidestepped the second and blocked the third. Kelas danced back, the fight was on in earnest.
Kelen realized his mistake almost too late, but a quick recovery was in order. For a while he let her attack, gauging her speed and the kind and frequency of her strikes. More than once she nearly over came his defences. The time was getting close, and he knew he needed to act. Slowly he began shifting the pace of their fight, sometimes running meters down the trench as if in retreat, then setting himself for another bout. Others he added an occasional jab or kick between her attacks, slowly testing her defences.
She was slightly faster than he, that much he could tell. She might also be more agile and slippery. She side stepped some of his searching strike far too easily. He had but one chance he figured, and that was to pin her and force her to submit. With that in mind he launched into a series of attacks of his own.
His first strike she side stepped easily, and the second, third and fourth were blocked with the same practiced ease. He added a kick for good measure, and then followed it with a knee strike that should have met her in the chest. She took them all and kept moving.
Then with a quick jab he feinted an attack. She side stepped it again just as he expected and he smiled. Just as in the bar he stepped up and to the right, his right hand snaking out to grasp her wrist. With a twist he pulled her off balance, locking a leg behind hers in preparation for the trip.
Kelas yelped as he grabbed her arm, the weight of his knee behind hers and stopping her locking her leg. Automatically she twisted her wrist but he was too fast. Almost as soon as he'd started the movement she knew the fight was done.
She landed hard, trying to twist away but he was already there, blocking her movements before she could finish them. It was a strange, half fight, with blows not being exchanged as they tried to outmanoeuvre each other. She almost managed to get her wrist free but then his grip tightened.
Kelen pulled himself close and twisted slightly, locking his legs around her and holding her beneath him. "Yield Kelas," was all he said. He was seating. He had broken a sweat and his muscles were shaking, and for some reason it made him happy.
Even though her arm was on fire Kelas refused to give in, shaking her head. He held the pressure, not moving. He didn't have to, just the hold was enough. Her arm shook but she tried to pull away anyway. Tried everything, biting her lip to ignore the fire in her arm. He sighed, as though tired with her attempts and twisted her wrist a fraction. She hissed in pain but stopped moving. Her head dropped back to the dirt floor of the trench as she closed her eyes.
She'd been beaten before, but never so quickly or completely. And she'd never been... glad about it before? She opened her eyes and looked up at him, refusing to say the words. "Sneaky, and fast," she admitted.
Kelen blew out a breath of partial frustration. Dal had always told him he was a stubborn ass, but he was beginning to think that Kelas Vann made him look an amateur. "Almost not quick enough," he admitted. "You almost had me. I needed to finish it quick."
He was breathing heavily still, but refused to give up his hold on her. "Kelas, surrender," Kelen said with a few heavy breaths. God's she tired him out. "Admit that any Sargosian man would be more than lucky to have you. I can't marry you until you do."
She started in surprise, and then yelped as pain arced through her wrist and arm from her sudden movement. Instantly he dropped the pressure but didn't let go. She knew he wouldn't until she'd yielded. Eyes wide, then tension and fight drained from her body as though it had never been there. She wanted to believe him, wanted to believe that for one of her kind at least, her failing didn't matter.
"W... where did marriage come into this?" she finally managed, trying hard not to think about the lean male body pressed against hers. She didn't manage it, a hard line of colour forming on her cheekbones.
"The moment you said you weren't worthy of me," Kelen admitted, and added. "And the second you asked me if I was angling for marriage." Kelen rolled off her then and stood. He shook himself out and cracked his neck before adding, "Get up. If you won't yield then you still haven't discovered what I already know."
She frowned as she rolled to her feet, "What do you already know?"
"That other than my sister Dal there is no Sargosian woman worthier than you are," Kelen answered simply. "That if I knew you better I'd bond you in a hairs breadth of a heartbeat. And that you are, at the very least my equal," he added. Kelen Tarn Regas looked down for a moment and then looked back up. There was a feral look in his eyes, but one of fierce joy mixed with sadness and desire. "There is every possibility you are also my better. So you are more than worthy of my desire and my pursuit - whether you think so or not."
Kelen stood there trying to control his breathing, willing his body to adjust to the sudden lack of motion and exertion. "And one last thing you should know," he finished with a sigh. "I don't separate your value as a warrior from your value as a mate. They are unrelated yet intertwined. All I want is my equal Kelas, or my better."
She didn't know what to say. Her mouth opened and closed soundlessly, emotions flitting across her dark eyes. His words comforted, thrilled and scared her and she wasn't sure what to say, what to do. This was a different sort of battlefield and one Kelas had absolutely zero experience in.
"You'd bond with an infertile woman?" she finally managed. Of the three forms of marriage that was the highest, the only permanent bond. Through regeneration and beyond, to death. She shook her heart, her mind reeling. Since she'd found out what the keta-seventeen had done to her body, the damage it had wrought, most men of her species and even some women wouldn't give her the time of day. So to find one who would, and more than that, was talking about marriage. There was only one answer.
She was cracking up.
She forced a small laugh and looked around, "Okay, where are the cameras. What sort of joke is this?" she asked, but even as she said it, she knew it was for real. You couldn't fake being Sargosian.
Kelen leaped forward and growled, but was still careful to stay out of range of her kicks and punches. Kelas was a warrior bred and born, and could make short work of him if he wasn't careful. Even so Kelas took two steps back as Kelen came to an abrupt halt - almost as if a feral dog had come to the end of its leash and snapped back.
"Damn you woman," Kelen snarled. He could feel his anger getting the best of him and he wanted it to stop, but Kelas infuriated him like no one else had ever done. Why couldn't she see it? "That's the second time you've decided something for me." He was pacing back and forth as he spoke now, not unlike a cat watching prey, but with something else behind the eyes. He waved his arms as he spoke, and his fists occasionally clenched to punctuate the words.
"First you decided that you aren't good enough," He growled and his head snapped sideways to look at her. "Then you decide my wanting you is a joke? And all because you can't have children?"
Kelen began taking long slow steps towards her, one for each pause in his words. He was too angry to care now if she hit him. "You . . . are not . . . a womb." he snarled, the last words placing him inches in front of her. He bent down so his face was directly in front of hers. "Infertility can be cured," he raged, "And if it isn't I don't give a damn. So don't tell me whether or not I want you. If you don't want me, fine, walk away - but never tell me who I can and cannot want."
Each word, each sentence, broke down her defences further until she was as white as a sheet. She actually flinched as he came to a stop in front of her but it wasn't through fear or the threat of physical violence as an onlooker might think, she didn't tense up or raise a guard. No, this was emotional. She was in unfamiliar territory and floundering fast. Try as she might though, she couldn't stop the tiny blossoming of something deep down inside.
Her chin came up at his last words, and she looked him in the eye. "Not walking anywhere," she whispered.
Kelen looked her in the eyes and his own face softened. "Then Yield Kelas," He said softly. He reached out slowly and placed his hands on her shoulders, then slowly ran them down onto her arms. "Say that you are worthy of any Sargosian man so I can make you mine."
She closed her eyes and drew a shuddering breath. She was as scared as hell but she couldn't help herself. She opened her eyes and shook her head. His expression hardened so she smiled a little. An odd, almost shy little expression. "Not any man, just you," she told him, knowing what her words would do, what she was saying. "I yield."
HUGE JP
MCaptain Kelen Regas
Marine Executive Officer
USS Lakota
Summary: Kelas is challenged by another Sargosian over certain beliefs, which culminates in a holodeck fight and a surprising (for Kelas) outcome.
Kelen sat facing the other marine and held the look of concentration and strain on his face. His arms and shoulders were bare, exhibiting the makings that would identify him to any Sargosian who happened by, but since he had rarely seen another Sargosian during his service in the fleet; this was for him and not them.
And he was making a good show of struggling with the other Marine. True, he wasn't really exerting himself at all, a Sargosian was generally stronger than even the fittest of human males, but that didn't stop him from keeping up the ruse. He had learned long ago that it was a far better tactic to allow the Marines he served with to save face, rather than to embarrass them with unnecessary shows of prowess. It was odd, because in his mind he was certain that another warrior of his race would have ended the contest quickly.
Finally when he thought the arm wrestling contest had gone on long enough he relaxed his arm, feigning exhaustion, and the back of his hand slammed into the tabletop. He smiled and shook out his arm as though the strain had made him sore and stiff. "Alright, alright, Matt," he said with a laugh, "You win."
The other Marines at the table laughed too. Kelen had a ready smile, and most of the Marines who served with him always felt comfortable, which is what he wanted in the first place.
"Best two of three Kelen?" Matt Danniger asked with a sly grin.
Kelen held up his hands as if in mock surrender. "Don't you have guys have dates?" he asked as he laughed. He glanced across the way to a table which held three WM's who also watched the group intently. One of the women whispered to the others and the soothing sound of laughter drifted over. "I think you've already proven your prowess enough for one day."
"Alright then," Matt said with a grin, "but don't think you are getting out of here without a proper send-off."
As the three Marines stood and wandered toward the women, Kelen grabbed the mug of coffee sitting next to him and pulled it close. He closed his eyes and allowed the warmth of the cup, and the steam, to wash over and through him. None of them had noticed that he had not even broken a sweat. It was, he reflected, because people only saw what they wanted to see - a problem he could easily identify with.
The blonde woman sat at the table in the corner noticed though. But that was because she easily read the markings on the back of his hands, arms and shoulders. They were similar to the ones that covered her own. But, like every other night she'd come in here, her arms and most of her hands were covered by long sleeves. She was lucky the current human fashion was for long, long sleeves. As long as she was careful she could keep her own markings covered and just watch him.
She took another sip from her glass and sat back. She hadn’t seen another Sargosian for years. Not one she wasn't related to anyway and, despite not wanting to, she'd found herself drawn to this bar night after night as the Lakota was repaired. She never stayed long, only one drink... which she was now finishing, and then she left.
She never spoke to him, never looked at him directly. She didn’t know that she wanted to...
She snorted and stood, of course she wanted to talk to him. But she didn’t know how to start and before long, the ship would be gone and that would be that. Crossing the room she put her empty glass on the bar and headed for the door.
Kelen opened his eyes in time to see her move, and he watched her covertly as she deposited the empty and started to leave. He had seen her every night now, and she intrigued him. The very thought of a warrior of his status being ‘intrigued’ struck him as funny then and he laughed as he rose from the table.
His curiosity wasn’t just because this woman was physically attractive, she moved like him. Or close enough as far as Kelen was concerned, and if she wasn’t Sargosian then he was a newt. He crossed the space between the table and door in long ground eating strides, flowing through cat like. He wasn’t stalking her, but that was how he moved by instinct.
“Excuse me?” Kelen called when he was close to her, “Can I talk to you?”
Crap. He'd seen her. Briefly Kelas debated ignoring him or simply making a break for it but she instantly squashed the thought. Shoving her hands in her pockets she turned.
"Uhmm, sure. Can I help you with something?" she asked, keeping her voice neutral. She wasn't in uniform, wasn't wearing anything that could identify what ship she was with so what was the harm?
"You're Sargosian," he said simply. She was breathtakingly beautiful, he decided as he talked. Not that it would make any difference. He rarely had the opportunity he had now. "And I rarely get to talk to anyone from home. I was hoping we might share a drink, and some memories."
Kelen, being Kelen had taken three nights and all of this conversation for it to register that something was amiss. "You cover your arms and hands," he said with surprise in his voice. To his people, the tattoos were a symbol of pride. To cover them, even for someone like him, was unusual. "May I ask why? Don't you want people to know who you are?"
Kelas just looked back at him. She desperately wanted to talk to him, share stories and reminisce. But if she sat down... she'd have to take her hands out of her pockets and she'd have to explain why she covered up. It was something she didn't like doing but to have him see her arm would be worse.
"We can talk," she said finally, her indecision and a little of the longing showing on her face for a split second. She nodded back towards the bar, "After you." She didn't say anything else, just watched him. It wasn't a hostile silence, just one of a woman used to being obeyed. And she kept her interest well hidden. He was handsome, well built, good history by the look of him and...She was infertile. It sucked to be her at times.
Kelen turned and led the way back toward the bar. It was oddly comforting to know someone from his home was right there. That he could just reach out and touch her. Well, perhaps he could touch her if he wanted to get a broken arm, but the sentiment was the same. She was or had been a warrior. The grazers didn't move like this, didn't have the grace or unspoken threat to their gait.
"It's okay you know," he said absently as they neared the door. "If you don't want me to know who you are it's fine with me. I'm not used to it, but I'm just happy to have someone to talk with. And it's enough for me to know that we share heritage." Sometimes Kelen just talked too much. It was another way he differed from most of his people. Usually only Dal came anywhere close to understanding.
"Two coffee's please," Kelas said as the waitress approached them, no doubt drawn by the lean and handsome warrior opposite. She'd seen how they reacted to him. Hell, she would be under other circumstances.
"And you'd really be happy with that?" Kelas asked, her eyebrow arched. She took her hands out of her pockets and sat down, resisting the urge to bury them in her lap again and folded her arms, resting on the table in front of her. "All you'd have to do is query the base computer for other Sargosians on board. Trust me, the list is short."
"Of course I wouldn't be happy," Kelen laughed. "But I don't own you. I don't have the right to demand your name or inquire as to your lineage" He shrugged his shoulders and sighed. "And yes, I could well look you up on the station Lcars system. But if you really don't want me to know, what advantage do I gain by intruding?"
"Look, I know we are supposed to be all about showing off who we are," He said spreading his arms wide in surrender, "and yes, I would love to know your name, see who you are and what you have done. It's inside me to want to know." He looked at her for a moment with barely disguised pleading in his eyes before he naturally replaced it with understanding. "You must have a reason for covering up though, and those are yours."
Puppy dog eyes. Kelas almost groaned aloud. To look the way he did, with the birth tattoos she could see on the inside of his arm and still be able to pull puppy dog eyes was just not fair. Some deity somewhere hated her. Seriously hated her. She could feel herself weakening even before the waitress set the mugs in front of them.
"Kelas... Vann," she admitted, wrapping her hands around her mug and affording him a glimpse of the marks across the back of her hands as she did. "And you're Kelen Regas. I don't have the same scruples you do," she added with a half smile.
So she was interested. It was good to know, though he quickly discarded the calculations his mind began to toss at him. Vann was a powerful clan and a powerful name. Some years ago he would have been interested in an advantageous pairing, but now he was only interested in the woman. A lot had changed for Kelen because of the war. "Well, I'll keep that in mind if I ever need to hide something from you," he said with a smile of his own."It's very nice to finally meet you Kelas."
He noted the way their names went together and frowned a moment, it had taken him time to break the ingrained responses of his heritage, and he didn't want to step back now. If Kelas decided she wanted him, he would know. Sargosian women weren't shy.
"So you out rank me then lead warrior Kelas," he said with a smile, "good to know." He meant it only in half jest, though there was some truth to the statement as well. She was first regen, just like him, so their ages couldn't be far apart, and yet she had outstripped him before the war ended. It was something to keep in mind. "I'm transferring to another ship," he offered, "Though my orders haven't come through yet, so I'm in limbo at the moment. I really am glad I caught you."
She smiled and lifted her coffee mug. "I wasn't going to say anything. Didn't think you'd notice me," she admitted. "My ships in for repair, I won't be here long." She flicked him a glance over her mug, silence settling between them for a long moment. Now she was here, she didn't know what to say.
Think Fleet, she told herself. The old ways don't matter anymore. She buried her nose in her mug. She needed to believe that, and stay away from other Sargosians because his interested manner would disappear as soon as he knew.
Kelen wasn't always the most observant, he knew, but he wasn't an idiot. How could he possibly miss someone who stood out as much as Kelas? "I'd have to be an idiot not to notice you," He said before he realized he was speaking out loud.
"What I meant to say," he rephrased after a moment, "Is that you are a very attractive woman Kelas. Even if you were not Sargosian I would have noticed you and wanted to talk. The fact that you are Sargosian is a bonus, it means we can be friends and with very few exceptions I don't have to worry about out living you."
She froze at the word 'attractive', her mug halfway to her lips. Cursing to herself she tried to put it down but her hands shook so much all she managed to do was spill coffee all over herself. She hissed curses under her breath and swiped her free hand down her arm, trying to get rid of the hot liquid out of the fabric.
Friends, she reminded herself. He said friends. That was good, she could do friends.
Kelen Regas grabbed a cloth from the table and reached over to wipe some of the liquid away as best he could. "I'm sorry," he said with a frown. "I shouldn't have been so forward. I forget that not everyone likes direct."
"I'm fine, it's fine, honestly," she told him, pulling her arm away in case he decided to investigate the sodden fabric. "Forward doesn't bother me... honestly," she assured him, grabbing his wrist to stop him dabbing at her sleeve.
The instant she touched him, an electric shock jumped between them and she gasped. Quickly she smothered the sound, deliberately not looking at him now as she mopped up, then sat back down with a determined smile. "See all done."
Kelen frowned and looked up Kelas at her touch. Suddenly he wasn't so concerned with her privacy, and it never crossed his mind to see that it wasn't normal for him.
"Kelas," he said as he held out his hands, "I'd like to see your arms now." It wasn't so much a command, it was more a request, but the tone of his voice had changed with her touch. His hand hovered there a moment shaking, and his mind kept screaming for him to grab her arm and pull the sleeves back.
They were both on their feet, tension drawing tight between them. Kelas looked at his hand as though it were a snake, poised and ready to strike. Slowly she shook her head, her expression wary. She didn't want to show him... didn't want to see his expression change and know why.
"This was a bad idea..." she muttered, backing away and turning to run. Escape as fast as she could.
Kelen Regas moved fast. Possibly faster than he ever had in his life. He stepped right and forward and His right arm shot out, his hand closed about Kelas' wrist.
"What?" he croaked out in a deep growl. He couldn't understand why her attempt to run had made him angry, but it was more puzzling that it had hurt him, "Why am I not worthy to know your tale Kelas, a Setarn not good enough for you?"
With his spare hand he reached up and ripped the tank shirt down the center, revealing the two small marriage tattoos on his chest. He stabbed his thumb at them. "Hand fasted," he continued to growl, "...twice. Once to a woman who survived my first battle with me. The other to a Warrior from Jayce who my family felt was beneath me. Why am I not good enough to know you Kelas?"
To know you he had said, and he had meant it on so many levels. But how could he ever truly know another Sargosian in even the most basic way if he had not read her life?
"Let me go," she snapped, pushing at him hard but to no avail. He was like a bloody cliff and as impossible to budge. Why had she not realised he was this solid?
"And I don't give a monkey's bloody uncle about what rank you are... Warlord or civilian it makes no damn difference," she was shaking with rage, but there was another note in her voice. A voice made low and husky with emotion. She broke his grip with a twist of her wrist and stepped back.
"You want to know?" She demanded suddenly. "It's not you who's not good enough," she shoved her sleeve up to the elbow and turned the arm out. It was clear, unmarked. "You happy now?"
He'd frozen, as she knew he would. Disappointed, annoyed and miserable, Kelas yanked her sleeve down and turned to go.
"Stop!" Kelen yelled the moment she turned to walk away for the second time, "Stop trying to run away from me and look at me Kelas." His heart was in his throat and he didn't even see the crowd that was now staring at the two of them. Two Starfleet Security officers were now watching him with interest they hadn't shown before.
"Look . . . at . . . me, Kelas," He yelled again, each word slowly punctuated with a sort of injured growling. He swept his right arm up for her and everyone else to see. "I have children. Three beautiful children. I can marry whomever I want and I can always make more children whenever I go home. Hell, I can even have as many lovers as I choose."
Possibly not the best choice of phrasing, he realized, but he had gone too far already to stop now. "I don't give a damn if you don't have children," Kelen said in a softer voice now. "And I don't care if that means you can't have children. It happens. Doesn't change my opinion of you one whit."
She couldn't help but respond to the order, looking up at him through the fall of her hair. Whatever she'd expected, it hadn't been that. Not such a passionate and violent response. She motioned the security officers down, Kelen didn't know who she was in relation to her ship but they sure did. She didn't want them wading into what was essentially a private matter.
"I can't," she confirmed, "I was a sniper in the war. Keta-seventeen poisoning." She arched an eyebrow. "Marry whoever you want is it? Why, you angling for another marriage Warrior?"
"For the right woman?" Kelen said, the edge slowly fading from his voice, "Always." And there is was. It was a simple truth, but mostly that was how he was. Ask a question, expect an answer.
"But my shawl isn't finished yet," In truth he hadn't gotten as far as he should have only because he had lost hope of finding anyone while travelling within Starfleet. "And you've already decided for me that you aren't good enough. I say you are wrong, but as the inferior in this conflict it means I have to challenge you to a physical trial or back down."
A slightly feral look crossed his face before he smoothed it back into normal Kelen. If any Sargosian would label him normal anyway. "So what do you say Lead," He laughed, "Are you ready to admit that you are good enough for any man, or do we scrap to prove it? I am Kelen Tarn Regas, Setarn warrior and lead scout of the Dark Ravens, and I challenge you to prove me wrong."
Kelas frowned, following his twisted logic. "Okay, let me get this straight. You're challenging me because I said I wasn't good enough for you?" That didn't follow the normal logic of a challenge. He should only be challenging her if she'd said she was TOO good for him. It was a get out clause that had always stood her in good stead before. "That's just twisted!"
He just looked at her, one eyebrow slightly raised. Kelas laughed in disbelief, shaking her head. "You're serious." Her smile dropped as her manner changed. She couldn't let a challenge go unanswered.
"Kelas Idirianna Vann. Lead Warrior. Sniper. Wildcats." She said, her speech clipped. "When and where?" She asked, as the lower ranked, he had the choice.
Kelen held his chin and head high. His back was straight, which would have emphasized that he was a little short for a warrior, at least under normal circumstances. Today however, he was filed with a mixture of pride, anger and hurt he had never felt before. He had no idea where it was coming from, but it made him feel a giant.
"Here, now," He said in a deep rumbling voice. It was so different from his normal tone that it nearly startled him. What the hell are you doing Kelen he asked himself silently. "I'll give you the choice. Arm wrestle here, or we hit the holodeck for some trench fighting - weaponless."
She eyed him up and and nodded. Arm wrestling she didn't stand much of a chance. Sargosians might be stronger than the average humanoid but within their own species strength ratios were still stacked in the male favour.
"Trench, if you think you can handle it," she added with a small grin of her own. She might be petite but she knew how to handle herself and, besides, she'd gotten a good look at his marks and he'd only seen part of hers. She turned and headed for the door, "Computer, reserve a holodeck for me please. Vann, K... from the Lakota. Hmmm... book for two hours. Come on handsome, you're on."
Less than ten minutes later they were stood outside of holodeck seventeen, waiting for the previous occupants to exit. Neither had spoken much on the way down, both watching each other covertly. To Kelas' surprise, he'd left his friends back up in the bar, even though they had wanted to come along.
The door slid open. Kelas barely noticed the group who left, rolling her shoulders instead as she motioned for him to precede her. She was going to have to take her shirt off. It wasn't a problem, she was wearing a cami underneath but still... the thought of nothing covering her arms provoked a mixed reaction.
She stood to one side as he instructed the computer then pulled the t-shirt over her head as familiar trenches formed around them. Not looking at him she folded it neatly and dropped it on top of a crate for wont of anywhere else. Finally she looked up, knowing he was studying the swirls and symbols across her skin. Slowly she turned so he could see her shoulders as well. He might as well read all of it before they started.
Quelling a small shiver in the pit of her stomach Kelas looked over her shoulder. "You ready or do you want to leave this nonsense and forget all about it?"
"What's nonsense is you thinking you aren't good enough," Kelen said with a wry smile. "If I give up now I won't have the chance to make you admit there is no Sargosian too good for you." Okay, so perhaps that didn't come out right, but under the circumstances there could be no backing down. He had a point to make, and she was going to hear him. And if he lost? He didn't want to think about it.
Kelen ripped off the remains of the Shirt he had torn earlier. He started to toss it aside and then glanced at it ruefully. It had taken him weeks to embroider the swirls and lines of his clan's marking over the top of the Dark raven's symbol, and there it sat still on the back of the ruined tank shirt. "Dammit," he muttered, "Waste of good silk."
Then he looked back up at her and frowned. Those swirls told him that he might not win this one, but he had to try anyway. He'd already known her to be a lead warrior. You just didn't advance that high by accident.
And if he failed? He'd be back again and again until she took his point. "Unless you want to admit that the births are only an attempt to keep up our numbers," He said suddenly. "And that it has absolutely no bearing on your value as a soldier or a mate?"
She shrugged one shoulder as she changed stance. "Now I didn't say it had anything to do with my abilities as a soldier now did I?" she pointed out silkily. "You finished yapping or do you plan to talk me into submission instead of fighting?"
She didn't give him chance to answer. Like most trench fighters, Kelas fought dirty and she wasn't going to give him a chance to get comfortable or wait for him to hit her first. They could both take a lot of damage, yeah, but that didn't mean she was going to stand there and let him hit her.
Her first strike caught him by surprise; he sidestepped the second and blocked the third. Kelas danced back, the fight was on in earnest.
Kelen realized his mistake almost too late, but a quick recovery was in order. For a while he let her attack, gauging her speed and the kind and frequency of her strikes. More than once she nearly over came his defences. The time was getting close, and he knew he needed to act. Slowly he began shifting the pace of their fight, sometimes running meters down the trench as if in retreat, then setting himself for another bout. Others he added an occasional jab or kick between her attacks, slowly testing her defences.
She was slightly faster than he, that much he could tell. She might also be more agile and slippery. She side stepped some of his searching strike far too easily. He had but one chance he figured, and that was to pin her and force her to submit. With that in mind he launched into a series of attacks of his own.
His first strike she side stepped easily, and the second, third and fourth were blocked with the same practiced ease. He added a kick for good measure, and then followed it with a knee strike that should have met her in the chest. She took them all and kept moving.
Then with a quick jab he feinted an attack. She side stepped it again just as he expected and he smiled. Just as in the bar he stepped up and to the right, his right hand snaking out to grasp her wrist. With a twist he pulled her off balance, locking a leg behind hers in preparation for the trip.
Kelas yelped as he grabbed her arm, the weight of his knee behind hers and stopping her locking her leg. Automatically she twisted her wrist but he was too fast. Almost as soon as he'd started the movement she knew the fight was done.
She landed hard, trying to twist away but he was already there, blocking her movements before she could finish them. It was a strange, half fight, with blows not being exchanged as they tried to outmanoeuvre each other. She almost managed to get her wrist free but then his grip tightened.
Kelen pulled himself close and twisted slightly, locking his legs around her and holding her beneath him. "Yield Kelas," was all he said. He was seating. He had broken a sweat and his muscles were shaking, and for some reason it made him happy.
Even though her arm was on fire Kelas refused to give in, shaking her head. He held the pressure, not moving. He didn't have to, just the hold was enough. Her arm shook but she tried to pull away anyway. Tried everything, biting her lip to ignore the fire in her arm. He sighed, as though tired with her attempts and twisted her wrist a fraction. She hissed in pain but stopped moving. Her head dropped back to the dirt floor of the trench as she closed her eyes.
She'd been beaten before, but never so quickly or completely. And she'd never been... glad about it before? She opened her eyes and looked up at him, refusing to say the words. "Sneaky, and fast," she admitted.
Kelen blew out a breath of partial frustration. Dal had always told him he was a stubborn ass, but he was beginning to think that Kelas Vann made him look an amateur. "Almost not quick enough," he admitted. "You almost had me. I needed to finish it quick."
He was breathing heavily still, but refused to give up his hold on her. "Kelas, surrender," Kelen said with a few heavy breaths. God's she tired him out. "Admit that any Sargosian man would be more than lucky to have you. I can't marry you until you do."
She started in surprise, and then yelped as pain arced through her wrist and arm from her sudden movement. Instantly he dropped the pressure but didn't let go. She knew he wouldn't until she'd yielded. Eyes wide, then tension and fight drained from her body as though it had never been there. She wanted to believe him, wanted to believe that for one of her kind at least, her failing didn't matter.
"W... where did marriage come into this?" she finally managed, trying hard not to think about the lean male body pressed against hers. She didn't manage it, a hard line of colour forming on her cheekbones.
"The moment you said you weren't worthy of me," Kelen admitted, and added. "And the second you asked me if I was angling for marriage." Kelen rolled off her then and stood. He shook himself out and cracked his neck before adding, "Get up. If you won't yield then you still haven't discovered what I already know."
She frowned as she rolled to her feet, "What do you already know?"
"That other than my sister Dal there is no Sargosian woman worthier than you are," Kelen answered simply. "That if I knew you better I'd bond you in a hairs breadth of a heartbeat. And that you are, at the very least my equal," he added. Kelen Tarn Regas looked down for a moment and then looked back up. There was a feral look in his eyes, but one of fierce joy mixed with sadness and desire. "There is every possibility you are also my better. So you are more than worthy of my desire and my pursuit - whether you think so or not."
Kelen stood there trying to control his breathing, willing his body to adjust to the sudden lack of motion and exertion. "And one last thing you should know," he finished with a sigh. "I don't separate your value as a warrior from your value as a mate. They are unrelated yet intertwined. All I want is my equal Kelas, or my better."
She didn't know what to say. Her mouth opened and closed soundlessly, emotions flitting across her dark eyes. His words comforted, thrilled and scared her and she wasn't sure what to say, what to do. This was a different sort of battlefield and one Kelas had absolutely zero experience in.
"You'd bond with an infertile woman?" she finally managed. Of the three forms of marriage that was the highest, the only permanent bond. Through regeneration and beyond, to death. She shook her heart, her mind reeling. Since she'd found out what the keta-seventeen had done to her body, the damage it had wrought, most men of her species and even some women wouldn't give her the time of day. So to find one who would, and more than that, was talking about marriage. There was only one answer.
She was cracking up.
She forced a small laugh and looked around, "Okay, where are the cameras. What sort of joke is this?" she asked, but even as she said it, she knew it was for real. You couldn't fake being Sargosian.
Kelen leaped forward and growled, but was still careful to stay out of range of her kicks and punches. Kelas was a warrior bred and born, and could make short work of him if he wasn't careful. Even so Kelas took two steps back as Kelen came to an abrupt halt - almost as if a feral dog had come to the end of its leash and snapped back.
"Damn you woman," Kelen snarled. He could feel his anger getting the best of him and he wanted it to stop, but Kelas infuriated him like no one else had ever done. Why couldn't she see it? "That's the second time you've decided something for me." He was pacing back and forth as he spoke now, not unlike a cat watching prey, but with something else behind the eyes. He waved his arms as he spoke, and his fists occasionally clenched to punctuate the words.
"First you decided that you aren't good enough," He growled and his head snapped sideways to look at her. "Then you decide my wanting you is a joke? And all because you can't have children?"
Kelen began taking long slow steps towards her, one for each pause in his words. He was too angry to care now if she hit him. "You . . . are not . . . a womb." he snarled, the last words placing him inches in front of her. He bent down so his face was directly in front of hers. "Infertility can be cured," he raged, "And if it isn't I don't give a damn. So don't tell me whether or not I want you. If you don't want me, fine, walk away - but never tell me who I can and cannot want."
Each word, each sentence, broke down her defences further until she was as white as a sheet. She actually flinched as he came to a stop in front of her but it wasn't through fear or the threat of physical violence as an onlooker might think, she didn't tense up or raise a guard. No, this was emotional. She was in unfamiliar territory and floundering fast. Try as she might though, she couldn't stop the tiny blossoming of something deep down inside.
Her chin came up at his last words, and she looked him in the eye. "Not walking anywhere," she whispered.
Kelen looked her in the eyes and his own face softened. "Then Yield Kelas," He said softly. He reached out slowly and placed his hands on her shoulders, then slowly ran them down onto her arms. "Say that you are worthy of any Sargosian man so I can make you mine."
She closed her eyes and drew a shuddering breath. She was as scared as hell but she couldn't help herself. She opened her eyes and shook her head. His expression hardened so she smiled a little. An odd, almost shy little expression. "Not any man, just you," she told him, knowing what her words would do, what she was saying. "I yield."
HUGE JP
MCaptain Kelen Regas
Marine Executive Officer
USS Lakota
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Kelas Vann - Commander (red)
- Posts: 172
- Joined: Sun Apr 27, 2008 9:15 pm
- Location: Midlands, UK
Re: Subplot 2: RnR / Rebuild
by C.Forge on Mon Apr 06, 2009 12:45 am
ON:
[Deep Space Seven, Promenade]
Life could have been better for Calvin, but it was okay none-the-less. It had been two months since the attack on the station because of Mirror Blakeney and those Ravagers, but that did not make the memories of the atrocities that occurred here any less distant for Calvin. He had been reunited with his son, thanks to a kind counselor from the USS Lakota, and during his two month extended LOA's that both the crews received he had been coping well with his wife's recent death. He had also been helping his son manage to recover, along with the station counselors of course, trying to help him nullify the horrors he himself had seen and felt. James was almost back to normal, though he still had constant nightmares. However, even though Calvin had almost recovered, one thing he knew that he would never recover from was the short, yet horrific torture from both Mirror Blakeney and Aubrey.
It wasn't the torture that had hurt him, for he knew it could have been much worse. It was the fact that a man had, in such a short time, managed to affect him to his core and take advantage of his fragile emotional state to change, for a short time, the very fibre of who Calvin was and all that he had ever believed. He had been, for that short time willing to kill to have a chance at finding his son. Luckily things had taken a turn and he had escaped, and then later found his son, restoring his confidence in himself, and what mental stability he had had before the attack had begun. No counseling would ever be able to heal the wounds that Mirror Blakeney had created. He had torn a permanent hole in Calvin's very being, and it would remain there for the rest of his life as a reminder of what horrors can do to the human mind.
This time, though, he wouldn't shove it all into himself. He would learn to deal with this new part of him, control it, and live with it, instead of ignoring it like he had ignored his sadness due to his wife's death. Of course it would take a long time for Calvin to get there, but that is where counseling, and the one thing he lived for, his son, came into play. They were his reasons for living, and for living well.
But now, Calvin was able to relax. He was never going to be able to empty his mind again of horrible thoughts, but he could suppress them. He focused on a particular part of his life that wasn't so dark and he relished his whole being in it. And now he sat at one of Bolian restaurants of the promenade, enjoying a sweet moment of calm that his counseling sessions had taught him to create. He took a sip of his soothing Rigellian tea, and opened his eyes. He opened his eyes to a busy promenade below him, space to his right, and the other side of the promenade, which had just finished repairs, to his left.
Life, he knew, would slowly return to normal. One way it could even do more so is if he saw an acquaintance from the Freedom, or maybe even someone he had once seen from the Lakota. Anything to make things slowly feel as if they were beginning to, once again, go back to normal.
<Tag Any>
OFF
[Deep Space Seven, Promenade]
Life could have been better for Calvin, but it was okay none-the-less. It had been two months since the attack on the station because of Mirror Blakeney and those Ravagers, but that did not make the memories of the atrocities that occurred here any less distant for Calvin. He had been reunited with his son, thanks to a kind counselor from the USS Lakota, and during his two month extended LOA's that both the crews received he had been coping well with his wife's recent death. He had also been helping his son manage to recover, along with the station counselors of course, trying to help him nullify the horrors he himself had seen and felt. James was almost back to normal, though he still had constant nightmares. However, even though Calvin had almost recovered, one thing he knew that he would never recover from was the short, yet horrific torture from both Mirror Blakeney and Aubrey.
It wasn't the torture that had hurt him, for he knew it could have been much worse. It was the fact that a man had, in such a short time, managed to affect him to his core and take advantage of his fragile emotional state to change, for a short time, the very fibre of who Calvin was and all that he had ever believed. He had been, for that short time willing to kill to have a chance at finding his son. Luckily things had taken a turn and he had escaped, and then later found his son, restoring his confidence in himself, and what mental stability he had had before the attack had begun. No counseling would ever be able to heal the wounds that Mirror Blakeney had created. He had torn a permanent hole in Calvin's very being, and it would remain there for the rest of his life as a reminder of what horrors can do to the human mind.
This time, though, he wouldn't shove it all into himself. He would learn to deal with this new part of him, control it, and live with it, instead of ignoring it like he had ignored his sadness due to his wife's death. Of course it would take a long time for Calvin to get there, but that is where counseling, and the one thing he lived for, his son, came into play. They were his reasons for living, and for living well.
But now, Calvin was able to relax. He was never going to be able to empty his mind again of horrible thoughts, but he could suppress them. He focused on a particular part of his life that wasn't so dark and he relished his whole being in it. And now he sat at one of Bolian restaurants of the promenade, enjoying a sweet moment of calm that his counseling sessions had taught him to create. He took a sip of his soothing Rigellian tea, and opened his eyes. He opened his eyes to a busy promenade below him, space to his right, and the other side of the promenade, which had just finished repairs, to his left.
Life, he knew, would slowly return to normal. One way it could even do more so is if he saw an acquaintance from the Freedom, or maybe even someone he had once seen from the Lakota. Anything to make things slowly feel as if they were beginning to, once again, go back to normal.
<Tag Any>
OFF
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C.Forge - Commander (red)
- Posts: 143
- Joined: Tue Mar 04, 2008 8:41 pm
- Location: Ontario, Canada and Freedom's Bridge
Re: Subplot 2: RnR / Rebuild
by Kelas Vann on Thu Apr 09, 2009 12:54 pm
Ladies and gents,
The Lakota has kicked off it's new mission in the Lakota mission area, please head on over to viewtopic.php?f=9&t=1262 to pick up the mission posts.
If you have things to tie up, please do so in here, but be aware time waits for no man (or simmer) and the mission is marching on over on the other thread
The Lakota has kicked off it's new mission in the Lakota mission area, please head on over to viewtopic.php?f=9&t=1262 to pick up the mission posts.
If you have things to tie up, please do so in here, but be aware time waits for no man (or simmer) and the mission is marching on over on the other thread
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Kelas Vann - Commander (red)
- Posts: 172
- Joined: Sun Apr 27, 2008 9:15 pm
- Location: Midlands, UK
Re: Subplot 2: RnR / Rebuild
by Barak on Sat Apr 11, 2009 1:45 am
Hey everyone,
The Freedom's new mission has also started in the Freedom mission area (viewtopic.php?f=105&t=1263). Freedom crew head on over.
The Freedom's new mission has also started in the Freedom mission area (viewtopic.php?f=105&t=1263). Freedom crew head on over.
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Barak - Vice Admiral
- Posts: 237
- Joined: Mon Jan 07, 2008 10:27 pm
- Location: UK
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