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Old December 17 2012, 10:57 PM   #84
Rear Admiral
Re: UT: Refugee Crisis/Dark Territory-"Stealing Fire"

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The Burning Claw

Still cradling his injured arm, Lt. Ramlo held the spanner aloft, contemplating whether he should crack it into the base of Gedrik’s skull. The lanky Venturi was hunched over the polaric ion regulator, completely entranced by each groove in its crystalline shell and completely oblivious of the danger he was in.

Of course the horned reptilian feared Mavaar far more than he did Ramlo. The sultry Nuvian stood propped against a wall near the entrance, arms folded over her sculpted midsection, the position only making her cleavage more noticeable.

The Arkenite science officer was far beyond any base feelings the woman’s suggestive pose could elicit. Shashlik’s head flying through the air ran through his mind on a constant loop. He couldn’t block it out; it filled both his sleeping and waking hours, a scream that could find no release building within him.

He briefly pondered unleashing that scream on Mavaar first, to eliminate her as a threat before turning on Gedrik. Then his wild thoughts went to the device itself, cracking open its plating, igniting its fire, and consuming all within its flames.

“Spanner,” Gedrik rasped, holding up an insistent hand, fingers waggling. The man wasn’t even looking at him. But Mavaar was. Her violet eyes narrowed and she pushed off from the wall.

“Something wrong Lieutenant?” She asked. Ramlo gulped, his throat bone dry.

“Scanner,” Gedrik demanded, his eyes now raking over the science officer. He snatched the device from Ramlo’s hand. “What’s your problem?” He grumbled, arching back over. Mavaar continued to approach, and Ramlo found himself rooted in place, buffeted by fear, hate, and revulsion at his own cowardice. While his emotions surged, Gedrik ran the scanner along a seam on the regulator’s hull, and gasped with delight seconds later. “Ah success.”

This drew both Ramlo’s and Mavaar’s attention. “Soon the secrets of the regulator, of my people’s salvation will be known to me,” Gedrik promised, seemingly more to himself than the others in the room.

“It’s kind of like stealing fire, wouldn’t you say Lieutenant?” Mavaar asked, suddenly beside him, her voice melodious.

The Arkenite didn’t respond, instead he stared dully at the circuitry behind the open paneling. “What is that Mavaar?” Gedrik looked up, clearly annoyed that someone had spoken and broken the spell the regulator had on him. Ramlo was surprised that the Venturi had seemingly forgotten the torture he had just recently endured, but agony was all Ramlo could think about, when he wasn’t assaulted with memories of Shash’s death or the blood drenched thoughts of vengeance.

“I thought the Starfleeter would catch the reference,” Mavaar said, not hiding her disappointment, “Since he has spent so much time among the humans. It comes from one of their myths. Prometheus was a deity who stole fire from his fellow gods and gave it to mortals. A seminal event, the discovery of fire, explained in a religious parable.”

“I see, a primitive tale for a barbaric species,” Gedrik sniffed. “What does that have to do with this regulator?”

“The danger of knowledge and the destructiveness inherent even in great engines of progress,” Mavaar replied, “Especially in great engines of progress.”

“Only if they are in the wrong hands,” Gedrik replied, “which they no longer have to be.”
“What do you propose?” Mavaar asked.

“There’s still a way for you to make this right, for us to save a world,” Gedrik pleaded, standing up again. Mavaar moved a hand to her bosom. The Venturi flinched and stepped backward. “Please, there has to be more to life than money. Help me save my home.”

Mavaar laughed, “You silly, sentimental fool. There is more to life than money that is true. It’s called leverage, which a lot of money buys a lot of. And you have neither.”

“I will no longer help you,” he declared.

“Oh really,” her fingers inched closer to the crevice. But this time Gedrik stood his ground. Ramlo, wracked with torment, numbly aware of the exchange.

Gedrik balled his fist around the spanner. Mavaar smirked at the gesture. “Try it,” she challenged. “Get back to work,” she said, turning her back to him. A raw cry ripped from Gedrik’s lips as he charged the Nuvian, the spanner held high.

Mavaar moved quickly, her boot arcing around to connect with Gedrik’s chin. His neck jerked back with a sick snap and the man crumbled to the floor. Her eyes widening in surprise, the Nuvian rushed to check the man’s pulse. After a few moments, she looked up at the barely sensate Ramlo. Her eyes had clouded over. “He’s dead,” she announced calmly. “Nadeen is not going to be pleased.”
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