Re: Semil: Agent of the Empire
Chapter XXIII: Fearless Pace
With a last few puffs of exertion, Semil grasped his way back up onto the ledge, K'vot had already ascended, rigging a heavier, more secure apparatus to cinch the moderately heavy crate up. He was casually perusing the contents of the crate with some caution - wary of disturbing its contents unnecessarily.
In some way, Semil was mildly surprised K'vot hadn't simply beamed up or otherwise absconded with their prize. For all the effort and resource that had clearly gone into his own resurrection and reprogramming, he still harbored some doubts the Colonel would have simply found it easier to just start over with a new batch.
A more trusting individual might have found the thought reassuring.
K'vot acknowledged the Vorta's arrival, as he panted and huffed damp, cool air. "Good. Now that you're here, we can finish moving this to the extraction point."
Semil raised a hand. "A moment to rest." He paused, trying to catch his breath up to his voice. "Surely, even a hardy warrior such as yourself didn't make that climb without even a little strain and exercise."
K'vot smiled inscrutably. Even if the Vorta had already proven himself to be several grades above the weakling reputation of his kind, in no small part due to K'vot's own efforts and guidance, the Colonel was in no hurry to allow the Vorta the satisfaction of knowing.
Semil had already reached for his canteen, slaking his thirst in great, greedy gulps as his breath eased and slowed. "I will take that as a decided maybe."
The Vorta drew in long, deep, deliberate breaths. He felt his heartbeat pound slightly less forcefully, and just a few paces slower as the feeling returned to his shoulders and arms, the source of much of his exertion in the ascent. He made his way over to K'vot, who was sealing the crate back up.
"I suppose you're in some sort of hurry to get back to the ship."
"He should be." A voice called out from the entrance to the cavern, unexpected and unfamiliar. The quartet of brutish Orions emerged from the darkness of the mineshaft, their disruptor pistols already drawn and trained on both K'vot and Semil.
Semil had realized he had been too spent to draw his weapon fast enough. Though he was surprised K'vot's reflexes could be so unpracticed. Still, he couldn't escape this impulse that itched, to reach for his sidearm and have it out in spite of the unfavorable odds.
Between the asymmetric numbers, and their unfavorable position backed up against the precipice, Semil's rational mind still had to put up no minor struggle against his visceral desire to see even one of the Orions casually terrified at his impending death.
As he raised his hands in surrender, his mind quieted in focus, intent on the interlopers. Only the faintest tremor in his shoulder belied his desire to reach for his disruptor.
K'vot, in contrast, viewed the new arrivals with open disdain. "I never would have expected you to be so adept at keeping up, Fennaz." K'vot's reserved contempt in addressing the Orions, Semil found wholly unexpected, un-Klingon. "But then, staying one step behind - five steps behind. It is hardly of any consequence."
Well, at least know I know why we were in such a hurry. But who are they? Obviously, K'vot has had some dealings, but it would have been a basic courtesy to have been told we were being chased or followed...
"K'vot. You should know by now that the Syndicate has little interest in your paltry insults." The older Orion, speaking on behalf of his compatriots is clearly Fennaz. Knowing Syndicate hierarchy, the other three can't be much more than hired muscle. Maybe one personal bodyguard among them.
Fennaz continued, "Results matter as far as we concerned. And you're to be commended for producing them in such record time." Fennaz gestured at the crate, motioning for K'vot to step away.
The Klingon Colonel did as he was told, stepping closer to Semil, his arms raising.
"And I see your Vorta friend is feeling better." Semil maintained his composure, despite clearly being referred to in order to elicit some kind of reaction. But what kind of reaction are they testing us for? From K'vot, from me?
"I would have half a mind to take him with us, if I thought his scrambled brain could be of any use." My, how these interlopers love to monologue. It was the one truly reliable galactic standard.
For his part, K'vot remained silent.
"As it stands, I think we'll be leaving with far more than we could have hoped for." A fifth Orion pulled a small antigrav sled behind him. He and one of the others hefted the crate onto the sled with minimal effort, and began back up the main mineshaft out of view into the dark.
The only real variable is how they'll try and kill us.
"I've thought about this day, K'vot. How I might kill you. So many ways - flay you alive. Stab you in the hearts. Gouge out your eyeballs and crush your skull with my bare hands like an overripe elanda fruit."
The Orions began backing into the dark mineshaft, the way out, as Fennaz continued, "But then, you'll forgive me for forgoing any ironic, poetic justice. I just don't care for poetry."
A glint of disruptor fire, and both K'vot and Semil instinctually dove to their respective sides for cover. From the dust and hail of pebbles, it was clear neither had been the target, but the ceiling of the mineshaft. Coughing, both Semil and K'vot looked up with their palm beacons to see the mineshaft to the surface effectively sealed. A generous pile of rock and rubble blocked their exit.
From the beams of their beacons, K'vot and Semil caught sight of each other, reassured that both were still in relative health.
"It seems that way is no longer an option. If we try and tunnel through it, it'll probably destabilize this whole cavern structure. Maybe you should delete it from your map."
Leave it to a Klingon to finally gain a sense of humor only in the direst of circumstances.
Semil began affixing his harness back to the rappelling gear. "Come on. If we can't go that way, finding an exit in this part of the cavern system could take hours."
Semil checked the tautness of his ropes; his piton anchors still seemingly secure. "I have an idea." With that, the Vorta began belaying himself back down the rock face, at a much more fearless pace than before.
With a last few puffs of exertion, Semil grasped his way back up onto the ledge, K'vot had already ascended, rigging a heavier, more secure apparatus to cinch the moderately heavy crate up. He was casually perusing the contents of the crate with some caution - wary of disturbing its contents unnecessarily.
In some way, Semil was mildly surprised K'vot hadn't simply beamed up or otherwise absconded with their prize. For all the effort and resource that had clearly gone into his own resurrection and reprogramming, he still harbored some doubts the Colonel would have simply found it easier to just start over with a new batch.
A more trusting individual might have found the thought reassuring.
K'vot acknowledged the Vorta's arrival, as he panted and huffed damp, cool air. "Good. Now that you're here, we can finish moving this to the extraction point."
Semil raised a hand. "A moment to rest." He paused, trying to catch his breath up to his voice. "Surely, even a hardy warrior such as yourself didn't make that climb without even a little strain and exercise."
K'vot smiled inscrutably. Even if the Vorta had already proven himself to be several grades above the weakling reputation of his kind, in no small part due to K'vot's own efforts and guidance, the Colonel was in no hurry to allow the Vorta the satisfaction of knowing.
Semil had already reached for his canteen, slaking his thirst in great, greedy gulps as his breath eased and slowed. "I will take that as a decided maybe."
The Vorta drew in long, deep, deliberate breaths. He felt his heartbeat pound slightly less forcefully, and just a few paces slower as the feeling returned to his shoulders and arms, the source of much of his exertion in the ascent. He made his way over to K'vot, who was sealing the crate back up.
"I suppose you're in some sort of hurry to get back to the ship."
"He should be." A voice called out from the entrance to the cavern, unexpected and unfamiliar. The quartet of brutish Orions emerged from the darkness of the mineshaft, their disruptor pistols already drawn and trained on both K'vot and Semil.
Semil had realized he had been too spent to draw his weapon fast enough. Though he was surprised K'vot's reflexes could be so unpracticed. Still, he couldn't escape this impulse that itched, to reach for his sidearm and have it out in spite of the unfavorable odds.
Between the asymmetric numbers, and their unfavorable position backed up against the precipice, Semil's rational mind still had to put up no minor struggle against his visceral desire to see even one of the Orions casually terrified at his impending death.
As he raised his hands in surrender, his mind quieted in focus, intent on the interlopers. Only the faintest tremor in his shoulder belied his desire to reach for his disruptor.
K'vot, in contrast, viewed the new arrivals with open disdain. "I never would have expected you to be so adept at keeping up, Fennaz." K'vot's reserved contempt in addressing the Orions, Semil found wholly unexpected, un-Klingon. "But then, staying one step behind - five steps behind. It is hardly of any consequence."
Well, at least know I know why we were in such a hurry. But who are they? Obviously, K'vot has had some dealings, but it would have been a basic courtesy to have been told we were being chased or followed...
"K'vot. You should know by now that the Syndicate has little interest in your paltry insults." The older Orion, speaking on behalf of his compatriots is clearly Fennaz. Knowing Syndicate hierarchy, the other three can't be much more than hired muscle. Maybe one personal bodyguard among them.
Fennaz continued, "Results matter as far as we concerned. And you're to be commended for producing them in such record time." Fennaz gestured at the crate, motioning for K'vot to step away.
The Klingon Colonel did as he was told, stepping closer to Semil, his arms raising.
"And I see your Vorta friend is feeling better." Semil maintained his composure, despite clearly being referred to in order to elicit some kind of reaction. But what kind of reaction are they testing us for? From K'vot, from me?
"I would have half a mind to take him with us, if I thought his scrambled brain could be of any use." My, how these interlopers love to monologue. It was the one truly reliable galactic standard.
For his part, K'vot remained silent.
"As it stands, I think we'll be leaving with far more than we could have hoped for." A fifth Orion pulled a small antigrav sled behind him. He and one of the others hefted the crate onto the sled with minimal effort, and began back up the main mineshaft out of view into the dark.
The only real variable is how they'll try and kill us.
"I've thought about this day, K'vot. How I might kill you. So many ways - flay you alive. Stab you in the hearts. Gouge out your eyeballs and crush your skull with my bare hands like an overripe elanda fruit."
The Orions began backing into the dark mineshaft, the way out, as Fennaz continued, "But then, you'll forgive me for forgoing any ironic, poetic justice. I just don't care for poetry."
A glint of disruptor fire, and both K'vot and Semil instinctually dove to their respective sides for cover. From the dust and hail of pebbles, it was clear neither had been the target, but the ceiling of the mineshaft. Coughing, both Semil and K'vot looked up with their palm beacons to see the mineshaft to the surface effectively sealed. A generous pile of rock and rubble blocked their exit.
From the beams of their beacons, K'vot and Semil caught sight of each other, reassured that both were still in relative health.
"It seems that way is no longer an option. If we try and tunnel through it, it'll probably destabilize this whole cavern structure. Maybe you should delete it from your map."
Leave it to a Klingon to finally gain a sense of humor only in the direst of circumstances.
Semil began affixing his harness back to the rappelling gear. "Come on. If we can't go that way, finding an exit in this part of the cavern system could take hours."
Semil checked the tautness of his ropes; his piton anchors still seemingly secure. "I have an idea." With that, the Vorta began belaying himself back down the rock face, at a much more fearless pace than before.
