Eradicating evil was always on my to-do list (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
cerebel) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
bakerstreet2012-11-22 09:47 pm
cerebel) wrote in bakerstreet2012-11-22 09:47 pm
The [simplified] Star Wars AU Meme
THE ROLES.
1. Jedi or Sith. A Force-user, either dark or light.
2. Soldier. Loyal to the Empire, the Rebellion, the Republic or the New Republic; infantry or navy; officer or non-com.
3. Smuggler. From the somewhat suspect status of figures like Jabba the Hutt right on down to individuals with their own scrappy little ship like Han Solo.
4. Politician. Senator, diplomat, ambassador, negotiator.
5. Slave. Working for freedom.
6. Other.
THE SITUATIONS.
1. Wretched hive of scum and villainy. Sit down and grab a drink at a grimy cantina, such as the Mos Eisley cantina, a known hangout for the unsavory and the seekers of the unsavory. Try not to shoot anyone in a barfight.
2. We'll know soon enough. By some misfortune, you've found yourself in an interrogation cell, either of the Imperials or of the Rebels/New Republic. Are you a traitor? Criminal? Or innocent of all charges?
3. Form up on me. You've landed yourself in middle of a battle zone, whether a dogfight in space or an infantry tangle on the ground. Once you've made it through alive, seems like the time for a post-battle drink.
4. We move for a vote of no confidence. In politics, everything is fair game, and on Coruscant, capitol of the galaxy, you'd better be prepared for a whole galaxy's worth of backstabbing. Public debate or private negotiation, or official white-tie dress function, be on your guard.
5. Make the jump. In hyperspace, you don't have to worry about impending battles or outside forces. In fact, you might not have anything to worry about at all. Hand of sabaac, anyone? Or maybe just spend some time preparing for your next job/encounter/battle.
6. Freezing my ass off out here. You've got to endure some hardship for your cause, and whether that means staying at a base of operations that's in an airless asteroid, or on a big ball of ice (like Hoth) or constantly baked under a superheated sun, you'd better suck it up.
7. Anything else. There's a universe worth of possibilities; feel free to come up with other prompts!
Uhura - Star Trek XI - OTA
I don't mind if you want to tag in actionspam, but I'll be replying in prose.]]
3 or 2, or 3 then 2 or something
Admittedly, from the outside, it had looked somewhat... suspect. The little Vagaari scout ship had fired on them in order to cover for its quick hop to hyperspace, and it had accomplished neither cover nor hyperspace. The Chiss picket force, though small, dwarfed the scout entirely.
And then the captain of the lead Republic ship, and thus the captain of the convoy, forced the issue, interfering with the destruction of an apparently innocent ship by alien forces.
The blue-skinned, red-eyed aliens, once fired upon, had retaliated quickly and astonishingly efficiently. Individual squadrons had worked holes in the shields and fired through, destroying conduits and gutting weapons arrays, leaving the ship mostly alive but entirely defenseless. Two ships in the convoy had been destroyed (though nearly all hands made it off in escape pods). None of the Chiss ships were. A stunning and terrifying display.
Thrawn sends over a request, now that the fighting is done. Send an envoy and a translator. Don't make any hostile moves. We'll be taking care of those escape pods, thank you very much. A single shuttle, that's all that's allowed, between the ship gap and into the Chiss bays.
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They don't clean themselves. Uhura's head is bleeding from a nasty collision with a console, deep red trickled down from her hairline and dried tacky and almost black. Green tinges Spock's split lip, Sulu is scorched and Kirk's shirt is ripped. She's less than clear on how that happened, but it doesn't matter right now. He can tell her about it later. Over a drink. Which he will buy. They stand in a line at parade rest behind their captain, each of them looking like they've taken a beating, none of them looking at all broken.
They've lost friends, lost ships, but that's nothing new. This has happened before, will happen again. The trick, the only thing that matters, is to make it mean something.
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All the soldiers are dressed in black, no exceptions, and nearly all of them completely ignore the escorted prisoners, despite their appearances. They are exquisitely focused.
They bring the four into a chamber that seems somewhat impractically large for a ship of this size. Smaller than the Enterprise, and the Enterprise doesn't have a space like this. The walls are draped with banners of a dark burgundy red and deep yellow, representing families Chaf and Mitth. Colored lights shift and appear to flow beneath the floor. It's a beautiful display, a salute of honor, and in the center of the pattern stand two people, apparently high ranking, one in yellow, one in red. They have a handful of retainers behind them, and then there is Thrawn, dressed in black, the only warrior present except for their escorts.
Thrawn does in fact look a little worse for wear. He helped put out a fire on the bridge, and he didn't bother to clean up the scorch marks first. He won't dismiss the possibility that he'll be going right back to help the cleanup efforts again.
The five from the Enterprise are escorted to a corresponding place on the floor facing the Chiss. As they do, Thrawn steps up between the two members of the Ruling Families.
Thus follows a quick but painstakingly performed ceremony, most of it in Cheunh and untranslated. After no more than a minute, Thrawn nods, his head tilted towards the Chaf Syndic, the one in yellow. That Syndic says something, and Thrawn translates: "Gathered here, the highest-ranking representatives from the Ruling Families Chaf and Mitth are prepared to accept your surrender, and to declare truce. Do you so surrender?"
After acceptances, and Thrawn translating back the other way, there are a few more ritual phrases, and then, "You will not be harmed at a Chiss' hands so long as our ships do not break sight," Thrawn translates. Traditional to phrase it that way. When this encounter is over is what it means. A quick exchange in Cheunh that has the flavor of orders, between Thrawn and the Syndics, and then he nods to the warriors. They step up to flank the Enterprise crew once again.
"I am Commander Mitth'raw'nuruodo of the Chiss Expansionary Fleet." These are the words he used to introduce himself over the communicator, at the beginning of the battle. And possibly they're unnecessary words; Thrawn is almost impossible to mistake for a simple translater, given his presence, the weight of his movements. "I understand elements of your territories favor torture as a method of interrogation. Torture has been outlawed in Chiss territory for millennia. You have nothing to fear. You will be separated, and spoken to, and returned to your ships."
He switches into the language Sy Bysti, a common tongue with the traders outside Chiss territory, and one that he thinks is most likely to be familiar to these. He looks to a warrior and, careful not to show any hint of his choice in his body language, says, "Take the youngest, the one on the left, and bring him to the antechamber."
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Finally, there is some translation, something to begin truly building from. The language is still a convoluted mess. But she can make a start with this. She speaks Sy Bysti, as does Spock, but neither of them give an outward indication when he instructs Chekov to be taken first. They trust him, after all this time. The reason they brought him was for him to be underestimated. He wanted to help, he still does, and so they don't look to him when the order is given, but they also don't stop moving. Uhura lets her gaze drift to Spock again, he shifts so that he brushes the back of her hand with his. It's an easy role to play. Perhaps even easier to play at than to actually feel.
It's not until they make a move toward Chekov that Uhura lets a touch of panic slip into her eyes, that she glances sharply at the youngest member of their party, and then to Thrawn. Kirk's reaction is similarly subtle, but totally genuine. Her captain is genuinely surprised by the move. The captain is usually the first to be taken. His shoulders tense and his hands clench into fists. Then he taps Chekov's chest. "It'll be ok, kid." Chekov has the good sense to look nervously at the blue men coming toward him, even if Uhura can tell that he's actually excited. Adrenaline junkie.
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He's separated from the four, who are left in a cell for quite some time. Nearly forty-five minutes has passed before Chekov is returned, having walked with Thrawn in a post-battle review of the pirate ship. Thrawn showed him the 'observation blisters' on the outside of the ship's hull, the ones with desperate scratch marks on the doors, the ones where living hostages were kept during the battle. He showed Chekov the interior hallways, patched with a variety of different methods, but with subtle indications that showed the halls weren't repaired or maintained by the Vagaari who were lying dead around them.
He didn't draw any overt conclusions, just let Chekov observe.
He asks a handful of questions about the ship's purpose, about the Federation and its public doctrine. He shows interest, intrigue, and Chekov tells him a great deal both in words and in tone when he speaks about it. And Thrawn answers a handful of questions in turn. Lets Chekov draw him out, until finally Chekov asks why he was picked to be interrogated first, and Thrawn lets a little reluctant smile play across his face, a hint of humanity in the calm, warrior-like commander.
"I, too, was promoted in my youth," he says. "The youngest of my people ever to achieve my current rank and title."
In the end, he tells Chekov almost nothing about the Chiss, and he gains an explanation as to why the Enterprise attacked the way it did.
He leaves Chekov in the interrogation room with the others, and receives damage reports while he watches.
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When he speaks of his companions, of their reasons, he mostly tell the truth. Because the truth is that they're a force to be reckoned with, that they always win in the end, that the crew of the Enterprise is the best that anyone could ask for. He does blame his fast promotion on his performance during a battle that he only hints at. If he wants more on that, he'll have to ask one of the other members of the envoy, someone who isn't supposed to appear to be bordering on ADD tendencies.
Back in the cell, the four who remain put on their show for the cameras that they know must be trained on them. Uhura sits next to Spock, his hand over hers, his body language protective. Kirk sulks, but he does it subtly, as though he's doing his level best to keep from being jealous and mostly succeeding. Sulu simply looks bored in the corner, bored and tense, as though the posturing is nothing new. Uhura leans into Spock, watches Kirk with something approaching regret. And when Thrawn returns, she and Spock break away as though afraid of being caught. It's a tiny thing, an almost imperceptible shifting, but she trusts that Thrawn notices the small things.
When he decides to take Uhura next, both men visibly stiffen. She just squares her shoulders and stands silently.
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He's even more interested in them now.
"Do you mind speaking in Sy Bysti?" he asks her, in that language. It seems reasonable to think that a translator would speak that language. "My fluency in Basic is only recent, and I trust it more for subtlety of meaning."
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"Very well," he says, in Basic. "Though I will warn you, if you have no familiarity with Sy Bysti, you'll be unable to communicate with any of the Chiss except through me." And is that really what you want, Uhura? -- Ah, but he'll warn the rest of his people to stick to Cheunh. It's a difficult language to pick up, multiplied a thousandfold if the listener doesn't understand how it's constructed.
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Not like Car'das, then.
"You invaded Chiss sovereign space and fired on a vessel of the Expansionary Fleet carrying out its duty," he tells her, crisply. "Neither of those incline you well towards the Ruling Families." He fixes his red eyes on her. "It will take time for your fate to be decided. Deliberations and procedure are rarely rushed."
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"We are not a conquering race," he tells her. "We expand only into uninhabited star systems, and we take great care before stepping into war. The Ruling Families are of one mind -- no enemy may be attacked until they have fired first." His eyes are steady, and then he turns away, leading her towards the ship. "I must be clear with you: the Vagaari may have called for your help, but they were undeserving of it."
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He stops short of the outer hull, where there is a bubble like a blister. One of fifteen, spaced out around the ship.
"Have you ever seen anything like this before?" he asks her.
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Her hands pass over the bubble, and she presses her face against it to peer in and get a good look at the door leading into the ship. No controls. "No access to the door lock from the inside. Containment for prisoners. Fire upon the ship and your own people will be the first to fall." She makes no attempt to hide the way her military mind works. Soldiers are not scholars.
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"Not prisoners," he corrects her. "Or perhaps I'm using the word correctly. Prisoner means one who has committed some crime, some act to lead them to captivity, does it not? No, these cells were occupied by.... hostages." He rolls that word around on his tongue, and nods, satisfied with it. "Civilians. Living shields. The Vagaari depend on the horror of this realization to freeze and terrify their prey."
He turns to her. "They are slavers," he says. "Roving and terrorizing, feared by dozens of races in this area of space. And yet -- I was overstepping my bounds in attacking them, but not in attacking you." He allows frustration to bleed into his tone, at the unfortunate confluence of circumstances, at the unfairness of it. "I wish only that the timing of it had not been so poor. And I am sorry; each warrior lost is a tragedy, and a terrible waste."
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She keeps her focus on the ship, looks at his distorted reflection in the bubble. "Perhaps your bounds are poorly defined, in that case, if your assessment of the Vagaari is an accurate one. They were not all warriors. Scientists and researchers and engineers and scholars. Yet their deaths are justifiable." There's bile in her tone, and she makes no attempt to hide it.
Uhura turns away from the ship and back to her captor. There is silence between them for a moment, and then she quirks an eyebrow. "A criminal is someone who has committed a crime, a prisoner is one who is deprived of liberty against their will, a hostage is one who is seized for leverage in the carrying out of an agreement between belligerent parties. What are the Sy Bysti words?" She's interested to see if he will give her the correct translations, and also how much of her explanation he understands. His grasp of Basic is quite good, in her personal assessment.
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"Hostage," he says, "and criminal, and prisoner." He considers, a moment, and nods to himself. "Hostages, then," he decides. "Unfortunately, my opinion has no bearing on the relevant Chiss law. We defend ourselves against attackers; that is all that is justified. The Vagaari scout fired no weapons, but it pressed into our territory to find a hidden base of ours."
Yes, there is a base of theirs in the system. And Thrawn would be extremely surprised if they had caught any sense of it. It's buried deep inside one of the asteroids, landing bays meticulously disguised, sensor readings difficult to achieve with a focused scan and almost impossible to spot on a general one.
"Unacceptable," he sighs. "And grounds enough to take their ship as captives," with the slight emphasis on the word, "free all unwilling prisoners, detain any resistance, and remove any references to the coordinates of our base from their computer system."
And, in the process, locate the Vagaari home.
"I know why your commander chose as he did. That does not stop me from wishing it wasn't so."
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