Silverbird
Star
- Joined
- Jun 23, 2018
The funny thing was that if T’Kurs had been more Vulcan, his attack probably would have succeeded. If he’d just managed to hold his mask for twenty more seconds — if he’d been able to keep his ego in check — then T’Vara could not have reacted quickly enough to avoid his knife. As it was, however, his premature gloating gave T’Vara the warning she needed. She brought herself to a sudden stop as T’Kurs moved into her path, pulling her torso back in anticipation of an attack. The knife cut through the air in front of her, narrowly missing her body. She caught hold of his wrist to prevent him from swinging again, as he grabbed hold of her by the shoulder — and for a moment the two of them struggled, T’Vara’s eyebrows narrowed in concentration as T’Kurs laughed in her face…
And then P’rmess intervened.
T’Kurs saw the improvised missile first and threw himself to the ground to avoid it, taking T’Vara with him. The two fell and rolled in a tangled heap, his knife finding purchase and splashing a spray of green blood across the vault’s wall. A moment later P’rmess barreled overhead, leaping clear over their fight. T’Kurs tried to get to his feet, but T’Vara had ended up on top and found leverage first. She drew back her head and slammed it into the false administrator’s face, dazing him long enough to break his grip on her shoulder. Forcing herself upright, she turned and hurried after her vanishing crewmate — but before she could make it far herself, a forcefield sprung up in her path. T’Kurs had scrambled over to an emergency panel, and cut her off from following P’rmess.
Turning, T’Vara exhaled slowly as she faced T’Kurs warily across the room. Her eyes lingered for a moment on his bloodied nose and bloodied knife. Her hand went to her side, pressing against the tear in her uniform and the slow flow of blood from the cut he’d inflicted. She had to be careful. She couldn’t count on having a physical advantage; he may not have really been Vulcan, but he could still be a Romulan, or some other equally-strong species in disguise. In addition, he was still armed, and she was wounded.
Her best option for now was to stall. He’d already demonstrated that his ego was a weakness, and perhaps revealed a little about his plan. T’Vara was sure, now, that the thieves had some interest in their shuttle. T’Kurs had intervened to keep them from reaching in, when he could have kept himself out of danger. She wasn’t yet clear on why; if all they needed was a shuttle, it seemed like they could have easily acquired one by now. They’d gone to considerable trouble by waiting for Starfleet’s arrival.
“You must realize your plan will fail,” she said. “Even if P’rmess does not make it on time, when Odyssey detects our shuttle entering orbit without our comsignals or biosigns aboard, they will move to intercept. Your co-conspirators will be caught in a tractor beam before they can go to warp.”
She smirked, an intentionally smug expression which she believed would drive him to make a mistake. “Logic says you have wasted eight years of your life.”
And then P’rmess intervened.
T’Kurs saw the improvised missile first and threw himself to the ground to avoid it, taking T’Vara with him. The two fell and rolled in a tangled heap, his knife finding purchase and splashing a spray of green blood across the vault’s wall. A moment later P’rmess barreled overhead, leaping clear over their fight. T’Kurs tried to get to his feet, but T’Vara had ended up on top and found leverage first. She drew back her head and slammed it into the false administrator’s face, dazing him long enough to break his grip on her shoulder. Forcing herself upright, she turned and hurried after her vanishing crewmate — but before she could make it far herself, a forcefield sprung up in her path. T’Kurs had scrambled over to an emergency panel, and cut her off from following P’rmess.
Turning, T’Vara exhaled slowly as she faced T’Kurs warily across the room. Her eyes lingered for a moment on his bloodied nose and bloodied knife. Her hand went to her side, pressing against the tear in her uniform and the slow flow of blood from the cut he’d inflicted. She had to be careful. She couldn’t count on having a physical advantage; he may not have really been Vulcan, but he could still be a Romulan, or some other equally-strong species in disguise. In addition, he was still armed, and she was wounded.
Her best option for now was to stall. He’d already demonstrated that his ego was a weakness, and perhaps revealed a little about his plan. T’Vara was sure, now, that the thieves had some interest in their shuttle. T’Kurs had intervened to keep them from reaching in, when he could have kept himself out of danger. She wasn’t yet clear on why; if all they needed was a shuttle, it seemed like they could have easily acquired one by now. They’d gone to considerable trouble by waiting for Starfleet’s arrival.
“You must realize your plan will fail,” she said. “Even if P’rmess does not make it on time, when Odyssey detects our shuttle entering orbit without our comsignals or biosigns aboard, they will move to intercept. Your co-conspirators will be caught in a tractor beam before they can go to warp.”
She smirked, an intentionally smug expression which she believed would drive him to make a mistake. “Logic says you have wasted eight years of your life.”