TRIBUNAL Part 12 - Brig Visit

Posted on Tue Jun 18th, 2019 @ 8:28am by Captain Enalia Telvan & Riov (Captain) Dalia Rendal & Az'Prel & Kodria Mizu & Commander Rita Paris & Petty Officer 3rd Class S'Rina Wil'I'Ams & Petty Officer 3rd Class V'Nus Wil'I'Ams
Edited on on Mon Jul 1st, 2019 @ 11:13am

Mission: Fractured Fairy Tales
Location: USS Hera Brig
Timeline: 2396 Shortly after the Tribunal's closing battle

As the Captain entered the brig with Rita, Az'Prel, and the two Wil'I'Ams sisters behind her, she maintained her decorum and bearing, walking up to first the cell that had Doctor Mudd in it, the man waggling his fingers at them before she moved on to the cell she was most interested in. One that had been specially prepared. One that had held her own mother.

The displaced Vulcan lingered momentarily at Doctor Mudd's cell for a moment, her emotionless eyes studying him for any signs of deceit or betrayal before moving on as well. As for Mudd, he blew kisses at the rigid and stoic Vulcan.

"Hello, Mother. It's good to see you in an appropriate habitat for once. I trust your accommodations are not to your liking?" Though her verbal jabs were harsh, her voice remained impassive, as if she were speaking to any other inmate.

“On the contrary, they are precisely what I expected,” Arenara Artan replied without turning to make eye contact, instead choosing to stare at a point on the overhead. “I see you’ve upgraded the Starfleet brigs. And beaming away all clothing and materials that might possibly be a threat was a nice touch. These lovely paper coverings,” she plucked at the disposable top, bottom and slippers she had been issued as had all the piratical prisoners, “certainly spare no expense for your guests.”

“So what does the walking talking embarrassment to the Artan family want now? Is this where you’ve come to gloat? If so, don’t bother. I won’t give you the satisfaction of a display,” the elder Artan waved dismissively.

"Actually, I'm here to tell you what's going to happen to you next in the Federation judiciary and penal system," Enalia began, clasping her hands behind her. She was trying to do this as dispassionately and as sterile as possible. As if the prisoner was anyone. It was hard not imagining herself behind that forcefield though.

"The evidence arrayed against you will be presented in a Federation court and if you so request it, you will be granted counsel. If there is sufficient doubt in your case, you will be granted a full trial and be judged by a panel of your peers... If there are any... Once convicted, you will serve your sentence inside of a Federation correctional facility if it is deemed you are able to be rehabilitated. If it is deemed you are not, you will spend the rest of your life in a penal colony."

"For your sake, I hope we neither send you to Facility 4028 nor allow you to be extradited to either the Klingons nor the Romulans." Enalia paused and let the mention of Starfleet's deepest, darkest prison that it sent its worst and most dangerous prisoners to sink in. It was rumored that there was a changeling prisoner there and they were the least of the prisoners stored at that facility.

"Mmmm, I hear there's cold storage on Luna, on the dark side. I've always loved the cold." Drawing in a long inhalation, the captured matron eyed her daughter.

"Brought the whole entourage, I see. Afraid to face me alone, or are they here to make sure you don't drop the forcefield and go for it?" It might have been a taunt, but it was an honest one. If anyone understood Enalia Telvan, it was her mother.

It was only rumored to be on Luna - the actual location was much further away in the Ayala system secreted away in an asteroid field and Enalia suspected that her mother knew this. She decided not to play that little game though, instead rising to the other game she had presented.

"The latter, actually. They're here to provide support, should I become emotionally compromised speaking with you," The spotted Captain took a step closer to the forcefield. "And I have been very... emotionally compromised... A clone as a hostage? I thought you better than that. And where did you get that Mudd? Even I didn't think you would stoop so low as to ally yourself with a Terran scientist."

"An asset is always to be cultivated," Arenara shrugged. "He came to me through... unusual means, and he proved himself to be resourceful inventive, and surprisingly loyal once I found the right motivator. Say what you will- respect may motivate, but fear gets the job done. Why are you here, Enalia?"

Cutting to the heart of the matter, Arenara swiveled in her seat and rose, even in the shapeless paper clothing every inch a queen in attitude and deportment. "My lawyer will explain procedure to me, and you coming down here to blather that garbage at me should be beneath you. They're here to stop you... the throwback and the two guard dogs..."

At that Petty Officer S'Rina moved forward with a growl, to be restrained by her sister with one arm thrown across her chest and a glare that would not be denied. Paris didn't look back, secure that her officers wouldn't rise to such simple bait that wasn't even aimed at them.

"Along with your little friend who came from the same place mine did, which makes you wonder. All this 'restraint' on hand just to read me my rights and follow procedure? You know they covered all of that already, you've read the reports by now. No, you came down here because you had to see me in person. You had to face your own personal demon and look her in the eye."

Stepping up to the forcefield, Arenara Artan stood practically nose to nose with her daughter, like mirror images of one another- same height, same build, similar features and bone structure, even. Tilting her head down to look out from under her brows, the forcefield lending her features an underlit effect, the defeated and captured captain of the HMS Bloody Rose smiled, a rather sickly affair.

"Ask me. Ask me all the questions, all those things you think you know but you're afraid to ask because you know you don't want the answers. Go on. Ask me. I'll answer, here and now, just for you, this time and this time only. I'm your prisoner, Enalia," The way that she said it in such a mocking tone made it seem as though she wasn't taking her impending trial and incarceration seriously at all. "I'm at your mercy. So go ahead. Ask me, if you've got the guts.

Silently Rita Paris reached for the shoulder of the captain, to launch into a speech about never giving a troll the satisfaction, but Enalia waved it off, without ever breaking eye contact with her manipulative mother. The bait had turned her stomach, but instead of rising to meet it this time, she waited a moment, then stepped back from the forcefield and leaned against one of the security consoles. "You're right about one thing. I wanted to see you in here. To see if after all this time you could be reasoned with."

"I guess I hoped that in the end you weren't the sadistic, backstabbing monster I always knew you to be and that somewhere in there was a mother. Someone that I could actually relate to. Instead all I have are the memories of the beatings and the drills. Of constant training from as young as I could remember. Sure I had every luxury... But I paid for them with blood, sweat, and tears." Enalia paused a moment as she struggled to contain the emotions raging within her. "There's a better way, you know."

The spotted captain then straightened back up and adjusted her uniform jacket. "As for questions, I'm sure your interrogator will have plenty for you. I think I have the answers I came for."

That elicited a long peal of mocking laughter as the deposed pirate monarch shook her head in amusement. "Oh, Enalia. I give you one chance to ask me anything, and I'd give you the greatest treasure of all- truth. And you take the opportunity to wallow in mawkish sentiment. I taught you better than that."

"Since we'll be continuing this conversation later, I'll tell you this for free. I'm unconcerned about your little show of force, your little moment here. Because this is just one small move in a very much larger scheme... one of which you are blissfully unaware, and I suspect will remain so until... time... runs out for you." The regal regent strode back to the bench of her cell, and lowered herself back onto it in a ladylike fashion, crossing her legs at the knee and perching her elbow on her knee, to cradle her temple with her fingertips.

"There are forces at work here you cannot comprehend, and stakes so high the universe itself is the prize. We'll meet again, my flawed little experiment. In time, you'll beg to bend the knee to me."

Enalia sighed and rubbed at her temple, straining to fathom the depth of her mother's delusions. "Commander Paris, please make sure there are no further plots..."

That was when the lighting in the room dimmed and all the power in the brig seemed to go out all at once. Not even the backup systems were kicking on, though the pale blue bioluminescent panels were slowly glowing to life as several things happened at once.

"Oops... Was that me?" Mudd hopped out of his cell to be met by Az'Prell, who immediately put him in a restraining hold. "Azzie, darling! You know I love it when you play rough..."

Arenara leapt to her feet and attacked her daughter, a sword seemingly appearing from nowhere.

Enalia first fended her off with a PaDD and a chair before reaching the now unlocked personal effects locker and whipping out her mother's own filigreed longsword and defending herself with it. "Get control of the other prisoners!"

"Always playing with toys that aren't yours," Arenara laughed as she hurled the blade in her hand with surprising accuracy, pinning Rita Paris to the bulkhead, the quivering sword driven through her shoulder.

Even as Paris cried out in pain, the formerly captive pirate queen artfully dodged a few skillful sword swings and thrusts before another blade, a duplicate of the one currently keeping Paris out of the fight, materialized in her hand. Bringing it up, she eyed her daughter across crossed swords.

"Society is a lie the weak convince the strong to go along with so they can survive and thrive. You'd be surprised how easy it is to peel away and make civilized men into savages."

With the power unstable and the forcefields down, the bridge crew of the Bloody Rose were also free, and suddenly they too began materializing blades and weaponry. Which was when the familiar PHOONT PHOONT PHOONT of the TR-116's grenade launchers was heard in tandem. Tear gas that could drop a Mugatu began filling the compartment, as the armed and armored Wil'I'Ams sisters moved in to begin pacifying the bridge crew while their captains fought.

"And that would make you the queen of the savages? You certainly deserve the title." Enalia had practiced long and hard with the sword since she had taken command of the Hera and now she hoped she was at least her mother's equal. If Schwein had trained her hard enough, perhaps she was more... The speed at which she was parrying her mother's attacks seemed almost too easy though.

"All those you call weak deserve to live happy lives as well, but more than that, they provide purpose and meaning to those of us that are strong enough to defend them from those like you. They keep civilizations running so that we have something we're proud to defend." A bit more confident with her mother's sword, she began going on the offensive, attacking using an older Royale style that Schwein had taught her.

As the paper-clad pirate turned a riposte into a disarm, she was surprise by a punch across the jaw, followed by a boot to the stomach, staggering her back. "Oh ho, I see you've been spending time with your naughty little piggy, who seems to have picked up a few tricks of her own. But no matter- this is serving it's purpose." Rising, the previous Pirate queen renewed her slashing assault upon her daughter, even as rubber bullets and phasers quickly took the fight out of the bridge crew, their acrobatics and swordplay no match for a trusty phaser.

"So... you know... there might be a place for you in the new Empire we're to raise. You could have your old job back," Mudd grunted as Az'Prel applied a choke hold to the man reminding her of the time she spent as a concubine. While she had brought it up here, it had just made people uncomfortable, she realized, and no one here saw her that way. But Mudd, here, now- it was too much to be a coincidence. Forces were clearly at work. Which was what Az'Prel was thinking when Mudd's Terran officer's dagger materialized in his hand, and slammed into her thigh, penetrating the femur. As the sword battle raged behind them and the smoke choked and blinded them both, Davos Mudd loomed over Az'Prel.

"You are MINE! You belong to ME!" Mudd shouted between coughing breaths. "You will ALWAYS be-"

His declaration of ownership of the only woman to ever free herself from his control was cut short by a phaser beam on heavy stun, as Rita Paris finished his sentence. "Free. She will... always be… free..."

Gritting her teeth in determination, the fearless first officer struggled to use both hands, slick with her own blood, to turn up the output of her phaser up to full power. Hands shaking, she held it out from her body and twisted her wrist to aim it at the guard of the blade pinning her to the bulkhead. Disintegrating it with a concentrated burst, she began pulling herself away from the wall, centimeter by centimeter, dragging herself forward along the blade in an effort to free herself.

"Ah, it seems we're out of time, my disappointing daughter," Arenara fended off two more blows before a particularly angry roar erupted out of Enalia Telvan, and her blow shattered the pirate queen's blade, driving her mother to the deck. Looking up, there was a maniacal gleam in Arenara's eye.

"Do it... go on, girl, if you have the stomach for it. Go ahead and do your old mother in, carve out my black heart, cut off my head and mount it in the prow of your starship. Show me your mettle, Princess Pansy."

In the soul of Enalia Telvan, a conflict waged, one far more brutal and furious than the deadly duel she had just engaged in with her mother. The years of insults, of backhanded put-downs, the endless expressions of disappointment. The death of her father, for which her mother had consistently laid the blame for at her feet, along with the death of her sister. Which now, she realized, might even have been her mother’s merciless machinations, which she had used for years to manipulate Enalia. The beatings. The punishments. The betrayals. The double-dealing. The sheer lack of compassion for any sort of life forms whatsoever. The casual cruelty that all added up to one sum in her heart and soul.

No matter the cost, the universe would be much better off without Arenara Artan in it.

As the disguise of fair nature slipped away, to be replaced by hard-favored rage, Enalia’s grip on the intricately inlaid and ostentatiously beautiful blade that belonged to her mother tightened, until the tip of the sword itself was vibrating, and slowly she raised the blade. In her mind she knew that she should say something, some final farewell to the black-hearted pirate who had robbed her of happiness for most of her life.

“I wish I could come up with a reason to let you live… but I just can’t. Goodbye, Mother…” Enalia said through gritted teeth, her lower lip quivering as she raised up for the final strike. Arenara, still sprawled on the deck, seemed excited to the point of being positively delighted by the turn of events. Either she was completely mad, or this was, in some bizarre manner, part of her plan. Perhaps her last revenge on the only woman to ever defeat her.

“Captain Telvan, commander of the USS Hera!” rang out a voice of confidence and surety, a voice that could marshal morale and change the course of a battle. It was a voice of command which had been handed down from generation to generation, until it had come to the latest in its line- one Rita Paris.

“You’re better than this,” Paris declared, her right arm hanging limply at her side. A steady stream of blood dripped from her hand from the wound in her shoulder, which she had aggravated by dragging herself off the blade that had pinned her. Her right sleeve was rapidly turning from gold to crimson. But this was why she was here- this was one of those moments the universe had seemingly randomly deposited her here, decades beyond her own lifespan and a universe away from her origins. The Lost Navigator, the wild card, the unpredictable Starfleet siren who served as commander, counselor and conscience to the embattled captain whose soul was balanced on the razor’s edge.

“Please… Enalia… don’t. She’s not worth it,” Paris pleaded, barely able to stand yet persevering because never was her old-school optimism and unswerving moral compass needed more than right here, right now.

As the spotted Trill captain’s hand quivered, a lifetime of righteous rage battling the literal voice of her conscience, she became oddly calm, and realized this was what her mother wanted. For Enalia to murder Arenara Artan in Starfleet custody, to wound her daughter one last time- by goading her to commit matricide.

That quirky pirate’s grin settled onto the face of the spotted captain, as she lowered the intricate runeblade her mother had commissioned to proclaim her wealth and position. The gaze of the Starfleet captain never strayed from her mother’s eyes which were now filled with maddened cold fury.

“No… she most certainly is not worth it,” Enalia sighed as she felt the rage and tension leave her, a peaceful calm taking its place. Half-turning to regard Paris, she smiled at her faithful first officer, who was perhaps the greatest risk she had ever taken, who had changed her life for the better.

Which was when Arenara Artan scrambled from the deck with a sneer and a snarl, hurtling herself toward the outstretched blade. Without thinking, Paris reacted, raising her phaser and firing. In the heat of the moment, there was no time to consider, no chance to reason with a madwoman, no time to change course.

No time to change the setting on the antiquated-appearing phaser in her hand.

Throughout all of this, everything was going according to plan. Enalia had genuinely surprised her with her assault on the bridge of the Bloody Rose. This fight, the implanted extradimensional access devices to store her swords and Mudd's disruption device, all coming together. It would be perfect- this body would die, and the circuitry would swap their personalities, their essences, their souls- however one referred to the brain engrams of a sentient being.

Poor weak Enalia would murder her, then Arenara would be the one holding the blade, in her daughter's body. Watching the light go out in the eyes of her aging body, taking her own brand of vengeance upon her wicked, willful daughter. Of course, the righteous Captain Telvan would be exonerated. Whereupon Arenara would walk away scot free, with the starship of secrets, while once the queen of the Artan fleet. She'd had a speech prepared about how she would bring about change and trust and a return to the old traditions. It would have been moving.

All of Arenara's plans and plots were in place, and in time she was going to be the bloody empress of a star empire of brutal thugs.

The only thing she had to do was goad her daughter into killing her. Hell, throw herself on the blade while it was in Enalia's hand would do.

Which she would have accomplished, if it hadn't been for that meddling Rita Paris.

In a flash, Arenara Artan was lit up by the blue beam of the anachronistic phaser, which caused her entire form to glow a bright blue-white. The expression on her face was one of shock and surprise- while she had seemed to be desperate to hurl her body to impale herself on her own blade in the hand of her daughter, she was not expecting the upright and moral Rita Paris to fire upon her with a phaser. She particularly did not expect the officer who consistently espoused a kinder, gentler approach and rehabilitation of even those who seemed irredeemable to disintegrate her.

If she had any last words, they were lost as her silhouette flared bright blue-white, then vanished.

“I… I still had it set… on kill…” Paris slumped to the deck, the phaser clattering to the deck from her numb fingers. “I didn’t… I didn’t mean to… I killed her.”

As the glow faded from her vision, Enalia dropped to her knees. She hadn't killed her mother, but she was dead nonetheless. Her now numb fingers let go of her mother's sword, allowing it to clang against the floor. "Somehow... I always knew it would come to this... But... I thought I would be the one..."