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Lt Sha'mer, Ens Sraw | "Pop Goes The Weasel"

Posted on 02/20/2021 @ 5:11pm by Commodore Rochelle Ivanova & Lieutenant Ra'lin Sha'mer

Mission: Genesis

Sraw's heart was racing, pumping cold adrenaline into his veins at a rather heavy clip. It left his fingers trembling and his mind going about as fast as the organ in his chest. Dahe'el wasn't going to be able to be controlled, the warnings had been met with a degree of viscosity that the agent wasn't exactly ready to confront. Most were pliable sorts that took hints easily and chose to protect their own hides rather than buck the status quo. Almar Dahe'el played by a different set of rules and a different code. Ravnsson had been prepared for it even if Sraw had not been, and that troubled the young man further.

If Sraw was a betting man, and sometimes he was when the alcohol and the mood was right, he'd have sincerely doubled down on the bet that Ravnsson was not only prepared for this, but was enjoying what came next. Dahe'el would have to be neutralized before they could reach Cold Station Theta. Landon Neyes had been suspiciously absent from Ivanova's funeral and hadn't been seen since - neither had the son or Neyes' brother or his son. It was far too interesting a set of coincidences given that Ivanova's body hadn't been found. A sweep would have to be made on Earth to make perfectly certain that Ivanova was dead, Neyes too if he'd managed to intercept. The latter didn't exactly trouble the agent given that he wasn't responsible for playing that particular hand of cards. The former left him in a bit of a pickle, namely because it left him in the power seat when plotting the murder of one of Starfleet's finest officers in a situation where tensions were high and just about every living soul was on high alert and nervous - like a herd of zebra that just watched a lion sneak out of the grass to snatch and devour one of their own.

Dahe'el, unlike the rest of them that had started to close ranks and blend together, still chose solitude and to give into the angst and hurt of losing his lover. It made him vulnerable. That had been something Sraw had identified in the communique to Ravnsson and Ravnsson had most certainly agreed that it made the job a touch easier to complete. Suicide was definitely the perfect option, and Sraw knew he could make it look good. Flawless really. Drawing more attention to the inequity of the Vindicator's command team, hushing the rest of them through shame.

... Hushing the Admirals... Through shame.

Stuffing his hands in his pockets, Sraw powered down the corridor towards the security office. His thoughts were still a jumbled mess, but the fog was clearing as a plan emerged from within it. It left his distracted, his care and sense of space discarded, and all of it boiled down to smacking into another living being. Their shoulders collided, sending him bouncing off course in an attempt to keep his feet. It took some fancy foot work, Sraw being a rather slight and weedy fellow, but he managed not to connect with the bulkhead or the deck. "Dude!" He announced his displeasure sharply, turning to face the woman he'd hit.

"Well, excuse you!" Ra'lin snapped back. She, too, had been distracted. As of yet, she hadn't managed to share her findings in the shuttle with the ones who needed to know, and she was reluctant to simply note it down on a PADD and slide it into Commander Dahe'el's quarters. There was too much off, too much wrong. Her thoughts had been turning in circles, and that was why she had sensed the opposite party just a fraction of a second too late. It wasn't the first time people on this ship had bumped into her, not even the second, and her annoyance, coupled with his irritated snap, made Ra'lin react uncharacteristically fierce in return. "What is this, am I wearing a sign on my back that says 'Walk through me'? Dude?" Her dark eyes shot fire as she glared at him. Who was this clown anyway? She couldn't remember having seen him before. Not really unlikely, on a ship this size, but still, as yeoman she thought she knew most, if not all, crewmembers. A recent transfer, then?

"Apparently you need a giant neon display or to get your damn eyes checked if this is a frequent issue for you!" Sraw snapped back, rubbing his shoulder. Ra'lin Sha'mer, Lieutenant... His brain instantly began tabulating intel and chopping it up into bite sized chunks of information. Captain's Yeoman, first serving Ivanova and now serving Dahe'el. He snorted sharply, "Maybe if people actually paid attention around here, the skipper wouldn't be dead!" the agent doubled down, glowering as he drew his line in the proverbial sand. It was a loud enough display that a couple eyes had fallen on them. No press was ever bad press. Chatter of this magnitude was a perfect alibi.

More infuriating words, but this time they took Ra'lin straight through burning anger and out the other side. Few people had ever seen her like this, and those few would've known to run and hide. "You have a lot of nerve, running me down like that and then turning it back on me," she said coldly, her eyes still blazing. "As for the rest, if you have something meaningful to add to the investigation, you know whom to report it to. If not, then kindly shut up." She turned around with a jerk to resume her way.

Right into the danger zone, that's where Sraw was headed at frightening speed and he knew it. It suited his purpose well enough, "I have!" He snapped, "Those above have their heads shoved so far up their asses that they aren't willing to accept fault or their own ineptitude!" He bellowed, slapping his hands down at his sides for emphasis while shaking his head, "It's a fucking mind blowing concept for those narcissistic assholes to understand! Accidents happen, shit falls apart, mistakes are made! But holy shit, universe be damned if they want to accept fault because Jesus Christ himself anoints everything they touch, right?"

Ra'lin arched an eyebrow, though there was no way Sraw could see that since she was walking away from him now. She didn't even bother to turn her head. "If you had, I would've seen that report," she said, and her voice was now approaching deep space temperatures. "I know for a fact that nobody has made a direct report to the XO. So Ensign, with all due respect, you're talking out of your ass."

"Oh man," Sraw barked the chuckle, shaking his head further, "I was just with the XO. I just pointed out that mistakes happen. You want to know what his response was?" He was swift in the measure he took to grab the Yeoman by her wrist, turning her to face him. He'd likely be reprimanded, but who the hell cared. It was a damn good show, "He said shit like that didn't happen on his ship. Fuck, maybe he killed her. Everyone knows he was fucking her. Maybe she had enough and wanted to go back to her husband! Fucking accidents don't happen..." Sraw snorted sharply, "But no one wants to fucking look at the writing on the wall. Hell, you can't even see an entire person right in front of you."

Ra'lin began: "You haven't visited the Commander, I would've know it if you ha-" she broke off abruptly when the man grabbed her wrist. The rest of what he said was lost on her, since this contact triggered something which jammed through her shields. Things which the man's poor self control, coupled with his anger, were practically screaming in his mind. Images, an older man with grey eyes, which the man identified as someone called Ravnsson. Conspiracies. Murder.

Some time ago she had caught an overly enthusiastic member of Starfleet Intel who was rigging the replicator in Rochelle's office to spy on her. That was a mistake which had been dealt with. Ra'lin had thought that one was bad, at the time. This was so many orders of magnitude worse-

Her mental discipline, though it still wasn't what it ought to be, had grown over time. Otherwise the man might've been a braindead husk lying at her feet right now. Instead, she reached out and short-circuited just a few connections in his mind. Sleep, she hissed as the man's eyes closed. She was vindictive enough not to catch him as he fell, though since he was still holding her wrist (however limply), he didn't fall hard. Then she tapped her comm badge. "Ra'lin Sha'mer to Commander Dahe'el. Could you please come?"


Lieutenant Ra'lin Sha'mer
Captain's Yeoman

Ensign George Sraw
(apb October)
Security Officer


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