Don’t tell me stories of the sunken ships it’s too much for me to take in

Posted on Sat Dec 4th, 2021 @ 5:05pm by Ships Doctor Hiram Maitland M.D. & Captain Rueben Gregnol
Edited on on Sat Jan 15th, 2022 @ 3:41am

Mission: Mission 14: Holoworld
Location: SS Holoworld
Timeline: MD04 1200
1555 words - 3.1 OF Standard Post Measure

It was entirely accidental. Kol's intention for boarding the Holoworld-made apparent by his attire and the rifle slung over his shoulder, had been to assess it for threats.

Upon two heavy doors sliding open with a monstrous hiss, however, he found himself firmly transported into this upside-down-style tropical world. His clothes remained as they were, but it alerted Gregnol to the interloper's presence instantaneously. Kol was the only one who didn't belong, dressed from head to toe in all-black.

"Captain Gregnol," he greeted in his quiet, deep voice, pitch-dark eyes peering at the other man without clear intention. "My apologies for disrupting your leisure."

Gregnol turned from where he was sat just staring and almost sat dreaming to to look at the man. He had not overly spoken or even seen the man before other than being introduced by Michael to him.

“I was just thinking.” Was all be said with a shrug as he turned properly from the fallen log to look at him properly. He was not being disrupted or anything when he was not doing anything.

Kol stood, drawn up to his full height, entirely out of place in this idyllic environment. "I shall leave you to it," he decided after a long moment. Conversation was not his forte, and he did not seek to reach out more than necessary. With his hand over the strap of his weapon, the Estate sigil tattoo was visible over the skin of the back of his palm. What had gone unnoticed in initial meetings suddenly thrust into stark relief.

Gregnol jumped up seeing the tattoo and narrowed his eyes at the man. What was a person doing on his ship with that Tattoo? "Your tattoo?" He questioned. His voice was hard trying to rein in what he was feeling. Anger, pain, grief for all the years he lost with Jeassaho, the child he lost thanks to his kidnapping by the Orions. "It's the Orion Syndicate." He challenged.

"It is," Kol replied, his tone even, expression inscrutable. This wasn't the first and would not be the last time someone had a problem with his past employment. Rayyah utilized tattoos instead of brands, but his tattoo indicated a staff-level position-a first officer, in fact. Kol hadn't been a slave. The cultural divide in the Federation could be, at times, insurmountable.

Gregnol slowly took in a deep breath. "Not a slave mark? So what brought you on to my ship?" He said pulling up his own markings to show the man. He knew the difference between slave and staff levels. He knew more than he cared to about how it all worked. Had Michael really been distracted enough by Dixoho to allow someone like that onboard let along in his own department? The Russian was all for second chances but he needed to know.

"Rest assured that I do not seek to harm you nor any of the inhabitants aboard this vessel," Kol answered the un-asked question, first. Argelians were known for minor telepathic abilities, but Gregnol couldn't feel anything ruffling at his mind. Perhaps it was just obvious; plainly written on his face. "I am a security officer by trade. I am here to do a job, that is all."

"So the job brought you to the ship? Nothing else? Not who I am and my connection to your former bosses?" Gregnol demanded. He did not have a weapon but he was not out of shape so would be happy to fight unarmed if needs be. He was already thinking of ways to subdue the man if he did not get the answers he liked. It more than likely would get him into trouble with Jeassaho for jumping to conclusions but it had been a long time since they had, had any contact with the Orions and the trouble anyone connected with them brought to his life.

"It is unlikely that you have any connection to my former employer," Kol assured him, his tone calm-one might say even approaching gentle. Rayyah absolutely refused to entertain the idea of engaging with Federation citizens. It constituted an act of aggression that most Orion vessels were unable to contend with. "I presume that you escaped enslavement." He just said it, the words blunt, but not unkind. "I no longer work for the Syndicate. You need not fear me."

"I did thanks to Starfleet Intelligence and someone who did not want to see humans enslaved," Gregnol said thinking it had been two years of pain and bitterness towards Barton and his foolish schemes that had dragged him into events that he had been unable to control. "You better not. I do not fear you I fear what you could bring to my friends and crew. The crew on my ship deserve second chances to turn their lives around." He told him firmly. "So what took you to being employed by the Syndicate. You do not look like a foolish man to get caught up in anything."

"Unfortunately that was not always the case," is what Kol answered with; enigmatic but not hostile. He understood why this interaction was happening, and he didn't begrudge the captain his confrontation. "I am here to protect your crew, not to harm them," he reiterated.

Gregnol barked out a laugh before he sobered at how ridiculous the conversation was now that he had the answers he needed. “So you have come here for a second chance?” The Captain wondered his whole stance relaxing as she he considered the possibility of it all.

It wasn't an inaccurate statement of the situation. "Yes," Kol replied, simple. His eyes hooked onto his own hand and he mused, "perhaps I shall ask Dr. Maitland to remove the sigil." It was a brief statement, but it said a lot. Estate sigils were things worn with pride-they reflected many years of service and commitment, and constituted the closest thing to a military honor that Orions possessed.

Gregnol raised an eyebrow at the statement. It was a pretty big step for someone who had been in that type of work. “That would be your choice and no one else’s.” He said simply. He could remember when he had made his choice over whether he should remove the tattoo he had gotten from slavery. He had decided to keep it to remind him where he had been and where he had come from. It wasn’t a decision to make lightly for anyone with that big of a choice.

Kol inclined his head. "Thank you, Captain," he said in return. He stood silently for several moments longer, perhaps waiting to be dismissed. Socialization for its own sake was not natural to him, though he didn't seem particularly cold. "I fear I make a poor counselor, but I am available if you wish to discuss your experiences."

Gregnol consider the option for a moment and just nodded. "As do I but you can share your experiences if you need to as well." Gregnol would need a lot of booze to discuss it but maybe one day he would be able to talk to someone other than Jeassaho about what had happened to him.

They both knew that Kol would not take him up on that offer-it would not be an equal exchange, and placing the captain in the position of comforting someone he viewed as a perpetrator was not something Kol desired. "Understood, sir," he said all the same.

Gregnol shrugged at the man who could give him a run for his money in solemnness and returned to his gazing across the tropical world that he had found running as he wanted to retrace the steps that Kaleetha said she had taken. It had distracted him enough that he had nearly forgotten for a moment. “You can stay or go. It is up to you Mister… Kol.”

He'd pronounced it wrong, but Kol didn't correct him. "What is the nature of this program?" he asked, still-soft.

“Not a clue. It’s another one that was running when the ship crashed. I think it’s somewhere like Betazed, Ardana or even maybe Dauncina.” All those planets had large areas of tropical areas that could match up to where they were. The program had simply been named home. “I suspect there is no nature to the program than enjoying the scenery and escapism.”

"I see," Kol said, in a tone that suggested he did not, in fact, see. "I shall leave you to it, Captain," he repeated again. "I will finish my sweep of the vessel and submit my report promptly."

“As you wish Mister Kol. I am sure Robertson will be waiting with baited breath to hear all about it.” Gregnol nearly spoke out to stop the man but simply nodded his agreement of the man leaving the holodeck. It would do not good for either of them to try and force the terms of the peace that had descended after the suddenness of the situation.

The Argelian's lips twitched very minutely upward. "As you say, Captain." With a bow of his head, his hands folded behind him and he took a few steps back, before disappearing through the large heavy doors that separated the holodeck from the rest of the vessel.