A life according to Hoyle - part 2
Posted on Thu Aug 16th, 2018 @ 4:39pm by Gunnery Sergeant Flarn & Major Cornelius Tremble
Edited on on Thu Aug 16th, 2018 @ 4:46pm
3,047 words; about a 15 minute read
Mission:
Episode 4 - The Sum of Our Parts
Timeline: MD001 1830 hrs
No one said anything, though he caught a few looks. He spent the better part of an hour feeling his stomach sink. He remembered something in the Captain's brief about the Cardies messing around with Temporal shenanigans. This looked like one.
After all, he didn't remember a Vulcan Oligarchy called the She'dar Va being in control of the Alpha quadrant.
If that was the case how in blazes was he going to get back to where and when he belonged?
May 28 2394 1830 hrs (relative time)
Neil felt himself jostled and pushed forward, causing himself to fall to his hands and knees. Other’s crowded around him and he pushed to his feet, reeling a bit as his mind tried to grapple with the moment. He had ‘thought’ he was in the lounge of the Savarravva but all of a sudden he was being stepped on and pushed and he sought shelter near a convenient wall.
Only to catch a shock that sent him reeling and skidding over the decking again. He rolled into a crouch then and looked around. Perhaps fifteen people were in a circular chamber maybe thirty meters in diameter. The decking was rough textured. It had metal bits but gave under foot too and was well trod.
Of more immediate concern were the three armored being near the center. They were each wearing stylized face masked helms and accompanying armor covering their torsos and limbs. The hound was tall and carrying a heavy looking pole arm that looked vaguely Vulcanish. The bird helmed being was barrel chested and carried a whip and shield. The last bore naught but gauntlets with disced blades emerging from them and a helm that resembled a large, toothy rodent.
He saw the gladiators begin to cut down screeching beings and became aware of the crowd noises cheering and shouting from around them. In the blink of an eye, three more of those crowding around were down and bleeding and the crowd booing the action. He was debating things when the rat faced fighter advanced on him and he had to skip away, catching a slice to one forearm as a lesson as to how fast the pugilist was.
Rat face punched again and Neil avoided the punch, grabbed the heavy extended limb and twisted and pulled, sending Rat face onto his back. The being grunted and tried to swing at Neil, but Neil had been expecting that. There wasn’t any reason to believe any of the armor clad fighters were incapable.
He heard a shout from next to him and saw a Trill, by the markings scream a war-cry as he twisted the bird helmed fighters head at an impossible angle.
Flarn snarled as the scent and sound of battle erupted around him. These senses brought him to the present, or what he thought to be the present. He had vague recollections of something else, and another time. But, that would all wait. Now it was battle and it was blood.
He engaged the enemy with ruthless abandon, scoring a few well timed hits on a being that was wearing a mask in the shape of a hound. Out of the corner of his eye he spotted a man, a man he thought he knew from that other life. He snorted loud enough to be heard over the battle and charged toward the man. This man was engaged with a being wearing a bird mask of sorts. Flarn dropped down and swept the bird man's legs out from under him. Through the gritted snarl he looked at the other man and knew the appropriate response was "Sir."
Neil caught a slash to his leg and was forced to crow hop as the Cesti wielder came after him again. Swearing at his own incompetence, Neil backed away and new he had to make something happen soon. There were now only five of the mob that had started and three of them were circling and trying to get at the Hound. Another jumped on the Trill clawing at him in a surprise attack as Neil turned back to the Rat.
It all flooded into Flarn's consciousness like a waterfall. He was Marine in Starfleet, that much he knew. Why he was here was another story. However, that knowledge was enough to get him going. If an enemy could not be subdued they must be put down, so that is what Flarn did. He jumped on the back of one of the three that were encircling the hound. As he ripped off this being's mask he noticed that he looked rather like a Klingon. Flarn began to push his thumbs into the Klingon's eyes tighter and harder he pushed and squeezed until the eyes simply popped. Then the Tellarite drooling and snarling moved to the next fighter, with the Klingon now sufficiently put down and blinded.
Neil dodged a few more swipes from Rat face and made his move. Feinting high, he dropped and did a leg sweep, catching Rat face by surprise and sending onto his back. The Rat helm didn’t have dedicated eye covers like the Hounds did and Neil got one hand on the top of the helmet and jammed the fingers of his left hand into the slit. It was a tight fit, but they sank into the man’s eye sockets and he let go with a particularly hight pitched scream as Neil pinched his fingers together hard and ripped his hand away.
His hand came away bloody with other viscus fluid flowing. Rat face began clawing at his helmet and Neil didn't paused before grabbing the fighter’s right gauntlet and jamming it up, under the helm’s visor. The Cesti wielder sliced his own throat and went limp as the crowd shouted and hooted.
Looking up, he saw the Trill had taken care of his desperate assailant and was looking from him to the Hound, who had finished off the two bothering him and was taking the last two in.
“Well, some challenge after all. Maybe? Let’s see, shall we?” Hound face said, hefting his pole arm, which sported both a spear and axe head.
“Well, drahk. I guess,” was all Neil could say as he glanced at his empty hands. The Trill had opted to heft the shield as his weapon, leaving the whip behind and Neil envied him a bit.
Flarn dropped the shield he had been using as a weapon and reached down picking up the cestus. He placed them on his hands. As he took a boxing stance next to Tremble he spoke. "Certainty of death, small chance of victory. What are we waiting for?"
Neil tilted his head at the Trill's words and considered briefly before saying, "Well, I came her to kick butt and chew bubblegum...and I'm all out of bubblegum."
Picking up the dropped shield, he and the Trill moved automatically to the Vulcan's flanks, trying to split his attention and gain an opening. The crowd screamed as Hound face began stepping and spinning the pole arm in circles, moving to attack the Trill. He drove the spear tip in towards the Cesti wielder and abruptly whirled the axe head at the Trill.
Neil took a step to the right and rushed then, seeking to body block the Vulcan as the Trill brought the Cesti together in a block, The Vulcan caught site of Neil's move and twisted, bringing the spear point to bear at him then in a powerful attack as he gripped it closer to the blade and thrust it through Neil's shield, the blade clipping his forearm and grazing his chest, twisting at the last moment.
Grunting in pain, Neil reacted as Hound face tried to retract the spear, twisting the shield down and away in an attempt to strip the pole arm from the Vulcan's grasp.
Flarn realized that the man was in trouble spun on his heel. He saw that the Hound was paying no attention to him. Flarn thought of a move he learned back at boot camp. So he came up behind the Hound and punched with the cesti to both sides of the Hound's head. "Box yer ears in..." Flarn shouted, knowing full well that the helmet would take most of the hit. The Hound howled in pain as Flarn squeezed with both fists. The helm began to dent, as the Hound reached up in an attempt to get the helm off. But that was to know avail, blood soon began to pour out from under the helm, as the Hound went limp.
The Hound slumped to the ground and Flarn pulled his fists out and they dripped with blood. Flarn snapped the Hound's neck to the cheers of the crowd. The snapped neck was simply for good measure. With heavy breaths Flarn returned to the side, of his new found friend.
Neil dropped to one knee as Hound face dropped like an empty trash receptacle. Around them, the crowd had gone slightly quiet and then roared at the Trill's conquest. There was a flurry in the main box ahead and then a voice boomed out.
"A surprise! Through the general distraction of the evening, the Trill L'drarn and the human Hoyle have come up Victorious. You will see them again!"
Looking up at the Trill, Neil scowled as they were caught in a transporter beam and winked out.
****
They materialized in a holding cell someplace, though approximately one meter above the floor and both fell. The impact with he deck did wonders for his mood, though he was able to roll through some of it and simply sat on his rear, looking around the cell.
The clear force field at the front opened into a common area, with several beings that Neil assumed were other gladiators and he grunted. He didn't recognized any of them and wondered who else might be wearing another body.
Sighing, he kept his seat and muttered, "Just another wonderful day in the Corp."
Flarn smiled, and for the first time since he boarded the Pioneer he actually laughed. "Hooo - Rah!"
Glancing at the Trill, he squinted slightly and then said, "Well I don't look much like myself, but I'm Lt. Tremble, USS Pioneer."
Flarn's eyes narrowed, he knew the Lieutenant knew him very well. The man next to him was not Cornelius Tremble. Tentatively Flarn spoke, "If you are Tremble then I am a gorilla in the mist. You look nothing like the El T. I know him, know him very well seeing as I am his First Sergeant. If you are Tremble then you should not need an introduction, you should just know who I am." The man fought well in whatever the hell that was, but now Flarn was not sure what to make of the man next to him.
Interesting is about all I can say for it. This skin I'm wearing is one Crewman Hoyle. So far, a rather plain being it seems. The bloody Cardi's were messing about with Temporal mechanics is all I can guess and we're existing in this timeline in bodies that aren't ours.
Flarn looked down at his hands and the rest of his body. He indeed saw a Trill and not the stoutness of his normal Tellarite self. Now he was horrible confused, and worried. "I am nothing but a jarhead sir, not a scientist. How the hell do we..."
Their conversation cut off as a pair of burly Cardassians approached. They were armed and the shorter of the two pointed at Neil and said, "You. Human. Come with us. Trill, you have the run of the barracks hall, for now."
Flarn attempted to muster his best acting talent. He was not about to let his El T go at this alone. "It seems that I have developed a rapport with this man. I will go to." He said as he stared the Cardassians down.
The Cardassian scowled at Trill-Flarn then straightened a bit and grunted, "Fine, the overseer will speak to both."
Neil realized as the first Cardassian turned that he had an ear receiver. No surprise that they were being watched, though he was curious as to what was up now.
They moved through the barracks, through a sealed hatch and through a few winding corridors until they came to another hatch and the Cardassian's ushered them in.
The room was opulent. The deck was covered in rich carpeting and the walls draped in gauzy, subset colored material that broke up the harsh lines of the room. A few people were scattered about, but the obvious master was standing near the center of the large compartment.
A tall, Vulcan dressed in flowing blue had turned at the hatch opening and regarded them. Her hair was dark and braided into
a circlet on her head. Her gaze was curious and no nonsense. Neil and Flarn stepped through and waited. The Cardassian's stayed outside as the hatch slid closed, but Neil was certain there were more about.
The Vulcan clapped quietly as they entered, smiling a ghost of a smile. "Very nice, you two. Very unexpected as well." He gestured them closer and frowned as they seemed to hesitate.
"Come now, smugglers can't be choosers and you offered up a fine surprise to our crowd this day. I wish to welcome you to the house of J'vor.
Flarn snorted, it was as knee jerk reaction. He was at a loss as everything that he knew about Vulcans said that there was no way they would run a gladiator ring. Yet here he was, and here Tremble was. Or someone who claimed to be Tremble. Flarn was content to let Tremble to the talking for both of them. At least for the moment.
Looking the Vulcan woman in the face, Neal realizes that he actually does recognize her and he wonders again if this is just some crazy dream. Instead of vocalizing his curiosity, he instead says "There's got to be some sort of mistake. I'm a simple crewman. How did I end up..."
She cuts him off with a laugh as she takes a drink from a hovering server. "Now now, Crewman Hoyle. I agree, you do seem just an ordinary human, who was overcautious in his trust and wound up in the arena."
She sipped at her glass and eyed them both like so much meat before saying, "And then a surprise. Meek and mild human Crewman Hoyle and unjoined Trill Am'ma'tar. One a smuggler and the other a perpetual gambler who looses. Badly."
The Vulcan smiles sweetly and sips more at her drink before continuing, "And as fodder pushed into the mid-cycle warmup match for three of my more successful fighters and end up on top."
Arching an eye towards the Trill, now identified as Am'ma'tar, is that how you have racked up so many IOU's and death marks. Staying on top of things? Perhaps that IS something to pursue." Though a firmer hand is clearly in order.
Flarn wanted beat the Vulcan into a pulp and smear his green blood all over the wall. However, it took all of his restraint to simply snort, and snarl. Well snarl as best as a Trill could snarl. "It seems my luck has changed." Flarn uttered through clenched teeth.
Neal had never actually seen a Trill's nostrils flare. It shouldn't be a surprise, but it did surprise him a bit as he recognized his first Sgt.'s mannerisms kick in and he had to bite his lip. The scene before him was just a bit too funny, really. A Tellarite wrapped in a Trill body being hit on by an an apparent Gladiator stable owner, who was at the very least the spitting image of a Star Fleet Admiral named T'lara.
The attention took Flarn off guard. He was not used to having any attention from the opposite sex. All he could do was awkwardly smile and nod. He looked toward Tremble/Hoyle for help, and received none for the moment. The more the Tellarite resisted, the more the Vulcan seemed to make a pass at him.
Neil wiped the smile off his face and shuffled his feet before saying, "No surprise really. They say you should never gamble with a Sicilian when death is on the line. There must be some sort of a mistake though. I'm no smuggler."
Overseer T'lara turned her gaze from the Trill to him and smirked. "Well then, we'll have to see about getting you released. However, the evidence against you is rather substantial. Lets speak to the one who preferred it and see if we can clear this up."
She turned then and called out, "Cordelia, my dear. Would you have a moment?"
The woman he'd kissed before on the transport came walking out of a side chamber, dressed in a flowing blue gown. She had an unreadable face as her eyes met Neils and he sighed then. Apparently Hoyle had dug himself a very deep hole.
The Vulcan's face smiled even wider at Neil's sigh and she slid her hand up one of Am'ma'tar's arms, over his shoulders as she walked around him and down the other, her fingertips tracing lines as she said.
"See, Crewman Hoyle. You DO recognize our dear Cordelia Tremble, don't you?"
Neil started then. He stared and felt his jaw drop and there wasn't much he could do about it as his vision tunneled.
"I am sorry, Jay. But, did you REALLY think you had a chance with me when you attempted that bribe and mentioned your network?" his alter ego in this universe asked him, smiling an evil smile.
A Joint Post By
Second Lieutenant Cornelius Tremble/Crewman Jayden Hoyle
Marine Commanding Officer, USS Pioneer
Staff Sergeant Flarn/Am'ma'tar
First Sergeant, USS Pioneer
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