PNPC Lieutenant JG Jaelon Tiazol: Marionette Part II

[Michael Meir-Wright]

“Marionette Part II”

(( Science Lab 1, Deck 10, U.S.S Octavia E. Butler ))

Qualunque: Yes, I agree. It reminds me of both old board games and an ancient, almost archaic holographic novel. You know, one of those truly vintage taped artifacts. What’s the term for it? A Mummy? No a Movie?

Tiazol: I don’t understand. I have definitely never seen anything like this, but I’m certain I have. It’s like… deja vu?

Miash: Response.

Martinson: I don’t know. It’s just like a vague memory. Like I’ve seen this somewhere before.

Qualunque: yeah me too! A thing for kids nothing to worry about!

At that moment, as if on cue, the sound of a rhythmic noise caught their attention. Snapping his neck towards the door, Jaelon could have sworn he had heard somebody… drumming? Again, he placed a hand on his phaser, wrapping his fingers tightly around the grip panel.

Tiazol: oO What is going on?! Oo

Martinson: Did you guys here that?

Miash: I definitely did!

Tiazol: Yeah… I don’t like this.

Martinson: Okay, it's not just me. Maybe ::beat:: maybe someone's listening to music too loudly.

Qualunque: Hmm, that doesn't resemble typical music! Unless we're hosting a tribal alien group that roams the Octavia with drums and nothing but leaves for attire.

Jaelon looked at Una and nodded. She had managed to put what he was thinking into words. Well mostly… she’s invented the idea of wearing naught but leaves. He wasn’t opposed to it, though.

Miash: Maybe we should refrain from playing until we know more about it?

The Trill wanted to agree, but found himself unable to. Mesmerised by the board’s centerpiece- a half-sphere that was now swirling with iridescent and beautiful light as if refracted through prism. The light soon formed into letters that spelt out “Touch to Play” in his native Trill dialect. How was it doing that? He wondered… before realising he didn’t care much. That wasn’t right… Sherlock was going to kill him for this… oh well…

Beyond the laboratory, the rhythmic drumming grew louder and louder until it seemed to surround and flow through them. It was several seconds before Jaelon realised he was absent-mindedly tapping his foot to its beat. His hand reached forward and brushed the transparent dome.

Martinson: I think it’s too late. I think it’s already started.

Qualunque: Indeed, it seems we’re now compelled to complete the game.

Tiazol: Guys… :: he said :: This… this doesn’t feel right, but I want to know… know what happens. 

What was going on? Jaelon was aware of his actions, he knew what he was doing- but he wasn’t in control. It was like he was a marionette and somebody was pulling his strings… and he was letting thrm.

Miash: Response.

Martinson: Sooner we play, sooner we finish. Right?

Qualunque: Indeed, let’s play!

Miash: Response.

Over the drumming came a strange feral growl that sent a chill coursing through the security officer’s body. It was as if somebody had thrown him into a bath filled with ice cold water.

Martinson: Computer! Lock door! Authorization Martinson delta four four nine!

The computer chirped in acknowledgement of the order and the electromagnetic deadbolts in the door sealed them in. Nobody was leaving until the game was complete…

Qualunque: Probably a tiger? She sounds hungry! Maybe some milk?

Tiazol: Or a Kzinti? :: he offered, only half-serious. ::

Martinson / Miash: Response.

The growling was now joined by the sound of scratching and hissing, as if something ferocious was using the Science Lab doors to sharpen its claws. Fear crept in Jaelon’s mind and he breathed in through his nose to steady himself.

Qualunque: So… Next move! I believe it’s my turn, right?

The security officer watched as Una pressed her hand against the surface of the see-through half-sphere. In response, one of the wooden figures on the board inched forward as if under its own power, coming to a stop next to the engineer’s playing piece. The shimmering light in the center of the board rearranged itself into more Trill lettering…

“In the heart of the jungle, shadows writhe, Where vines entangle and secrets thrive. Beneath the canopy, danger takes flight, As you steps forth, your fate to contrive.”

“The drums beat louder, a primal refrain, Guiding you deeper, where perils await. Eyes of emerald watch, hunger unchained, Another predator lurking, sealing your fate.”

“Through tangled foliage, you treads with care, Each step a gamble, a dance with the wild. The serpent coils, its venomous stare, As you whispers, “feed the snake beguile to get out”

Qualunque: What?

Tiazol: Is it some sort of clue? :: he wondered aloud. :: But what for?

Martinson / Miash: Response.

Without warning, tendrils of foliage erupted from the center of the board, twisting upwards around one another and producing shoots of verdant leaves and branches. All around them the laboratory was transforming; the walls disappearing as life took hold. Where there had been carpet deck plating, now there was soil, while vines snaked across the walls like great serpents of green and gold. A jungle canopy spread across the ceiling, almost covering the duranium bulkheads.  The scents of nature permeated the air and within seconds, the only clue that they were aboard the Octavia E. Butler was the central console upon which the strange board game resided. Everything else had been consumed by nature.

The rhythmic drumming grew louder and the shrieking, hissing animal sharpened its claws on the doors.

Qualunque: Feed the snake beguile to get out! What it means?

Tiazol: What is going on :: he said, looking around at the wondrous- and terrifying sight. ::

Martinson / Miash: Response.

Jaelon raised his hand to his communicator, tapping it once.

Tiazol: =/\= Lieutenant Tizaol to Security. =/\= :: he was met with silence. :: =/\= Lieutenant Tiazol to Bridge. =/\= :: again… nothing. ::

He shook his head and withdrew his phaser, gripping the handle with both hands. His eyes darted around the room.

Martinson / Miash / Qualunque: Response.

 Tiazol: How are we supposed to play a game that we don’t know the rules of?

Martinson / Miash / Qualunque: Response.

The drums were almost deafening now, as if they were playing from inside Jaelon’s head. He winced and tried his best to ignore them. 

Tiazol: So what do we do?!

Martinson / Miash / Qualunque: Response.

--

Lieutenant (JG) Jaelon Tiazol

Security Officer

USS Octavia E Butler

As simmed by

Commander Etan Iljor

Executive Officer

USS Octavia E. Butler

C239203TW0