(pnpc) ex-Cdr. Vivienne Hatfield - The Hunt Begins Again

[Iain Turnbull]

((OOC: Just a little something from Max's past. A Discord conversation about Long Games has lit the fire under getting this finished.....))

((ex-Cult of Molor B'rel-class Bird of Prey, Chang-Vor'ch.))

((Under cloak somewhere very close to Starbase 118.))

Danzuc paused outside the commanders quarters, swallowing hard as he did so. Sweat was forming heavily on his brow and soaking the underarms of his shirt. His heart was pounding and he licked at suddenly dry lips to try and moisten them once more. Danzuc was no coward, but the fearsome Klingon warrior would have been foolish to not be afraid of the vessels commander.

Looming over him were two huge Gorn that acted as bodyguards and were completely, utterly loyal to their master. Loyalty that was matched only by the brutality unleashed upon any whom they were directed at.

Standing firm in the face of their glaring eyes, Danzuc announced that he had important news and after a few tense moments, he was finally allowed entry and came to respectful attention. There was no sign of the commander, only a pair of naked and bruised slaves sat upon the long sofa.

Danzuc visibly stiffened as a voice sounded immediately behind him.

Hatfield: You have news regarding the girl?

Danzuc nodded, keeping his eyes locked to the front as the owner of the voice circled around him. Long blonde hair spilled over her shoulders, only partially hiding the shrapnel-ruined right hand side of a face that he understood humans would consider to be attractive. A single emerald-coloured eye cut into him like a laser scalpel, the other covered by a thick black eye patch.

Danzuc: We have located her, yes.

The emerald eye blazed at him, and Danzuc instantly regretted not spilling everything in one go.

A single word hit him, feeling like a knife wound.

Hatfield: Where?

Where was the easy part to answer, who with was the part that Danzuc was dreading. His heart began to pound faster as he began to speak. Knowing that in the next few moments he could very well be a dead man.

Danzuc: The Gamma Quadrant, commander. She-

The emerald eye narrowed sharply, matched by the voice.

Hatfield: Alone?

Here it came, the moment that would mark the swift and brutal ending of his life. If he was lucky, it would be a shot to the head. If not, he would be sent back into the corridor, given to S'sralet and his brother S'shalek.

Mentally, Danzuc braced himself.

Danzuc: She is with her father.

The words had hardly been spoken before the heavy phaser was pointed squarely at his left eye. A quick thumb motion and the weapon gave a dull hum as it was readied to fire.

Danzuc remained firm, resolving to maintain what little honour he had left by dying on his feet like a warrior.

The weapon slowly edged forward, stopping barely an inch from his eye. The steadiness with which it was held was almost as unnerving as the narrowed eye that bored into his own. There was fire in that eye, cold and ruthless.

The first heavy shot hit the right-hand slave square in the chest, throwing her violently back against the sofa where she slumped lifelessly. Rising in fear the left-hand slave was hit so hard she was thrown bodily over the back of the sofa. Were it not for the suddenness and the brutal shots the weapon delivered, a pair of legs sticking up over the sofas back could have almost been funny.

It took Danzuc another few seconds to realise that he was still alive.

At least for the time being.

The sound of the heavy blaster being holstered sounded far louder than it should have in the dim chamber and Danzuc winced involuntarily, knowing the hiss behind him was not the sound of the doors opening.

Two enormous forms appeared at his shoulders and Danzuc opened his mouth, all honour gone as he prepared to beg for his worthless life.

Hatfield: Return to the bridge, Lieutenant. Have us set course for the Bajoran wormhole.

Watching as Danzuc nodded and fled from the chamber, she turned and walked to the sofa. Boots clicking as she did so, she spun on one heel and dropped into her seat. Reaching up to gently stroke the leg dangling beside her,

she tapped her commbadge.

Hatfield: =/\= Send me two more slaves. I'm feeling a little... frustrated. =/\=

Staring coldly at the door as she waited, a plan began to form in her mind.

--

Commander Vivienne Hatfield.

Former OC, USS Valeria.

Former Fleet Liason, House Kravzo'ch.

Simmed by;

1st Lieutenant Arturo Maxwell.

Marine Officer, 4/73 Marines.

USS Octavia E Butler: NCC-82850.

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