Re: Semil: Agent of the Empire
Chapter VIII: Unfamiliar Door
Semil paused at the unfamiliar door. The alert klaxons blared to no one in particular in the corridor, even though Semil had little doubt it was for him. As he crouched in the doorway, he stared intently at the two Gorn that had cautiously entered the hallway ahead of him.
It was clear they hadn't yet seen him; Gorn preferred to rush their opponents, relying on brute physical prowess. Having only the element of surprise, it was clear he would have to act quickly, instinctually. No time for planning or strategizing beyond recognizing that he could never win against a Gorn in very close quarters. He would have to stay quick and strike precisely to overcome their sheer reach and strength. He gripped the blade of the mek'leth tighter in preparation.
From his crouch, Semil lept forward at the nearer Gorn. Leading with his momentum, his right arm swept forward with the blade; his eyes intent on making sure the edge reached its target.
With the strength of his legs and stride reaching up through his spine into the blade through his arm, the blade slashed at the Gorn's inner thigh just as he growled out recognition of the Vorta in his vision.
Without having to look, Semil knew that the strike had been a success. The warm spurt against his face and neck as he continued to accelerate could only mean that he had managed to sever the Gorn's femoral artery. He would have to hope and trust that he had also managed to cut a tendon or two in order to immobilize the gargantuan reptile just long enough for him to take care of his partner.
Coming up on the second Gorn, approaching a full sprint, he could just make out the putrescent smell of his breath - some unholy combination of rotten fish. The breath came just ahead of the impressive roar the creature let out, as it drew its arms back and out in order to strike with its claws.
This would be his only real chance. With one last thrust of all of the strength in his legs, Semil leapt, hoping to time the kick of his legs in the air just right. With his legs springing forward into the middle of the belly of the creature, the Gorn stumbled back.
Semil had not quite anticipated the solid bulk of the massive reptile, sending him wobbling as he splayed out his free hand to assist with landing. At least the attack had not gone fully awry, he thought as he steadied his balance.
He looked up to assess the condition of the second Gorn, who had tripped up on his own feet as he reeled backwards. So not enough of a kick to knock him off his feet by itself, but enough to take advantage of this particular one's clumsiness. Semil thought to himself that he would have to reconsider the force of luck in the nature of the universe, at some later date.
For now, he would have to finish the immediate task at hand for that later date to arrive. He sprinted ahead again at the Gorn, who had just splayed his own hands at his side to try and get up.
Big mistake. With only a few steps to build speed, Semil dove down atop the mammoth beast, aiming the weight of his landing into the handle of the blade, which he steadied with both hands, prepared to meet the resistance of armor, if not the tough reptilian hide the Gorn were so famous for.
Semil could hear the cracking of ribs, over the Gorn's wails not long before he felt the dull thud of his own body landing atop the Gorn.
A hot sting on his shoulders must've meant the Gorn had managed to start a desperate swipe with his claws before being pinned by the blade. It had all happened fast enough that Semil could only hope that the balance of injury was on his side.
Though not having shut his eyes, it still took a moment for the Vorta to recognize he had succeeded. The Gorn's muscular arms weakened and slowly began to fall to the side. Semil could feel the rasp of their scales as the strength behind them fell silent.
Silent too, was the Gorn's voice - as the shrieking wail weakened to a viscous gurgle, then a last sigh. Semil let go of the blade long enough to right himself and stand, noting the mek'leth positioned perpendicular to the midsection of the now unmoving reptile. Maybe not a lethal blow to the heart, but surely dissecting the Gorn's aorta had to have worked just as well.
Stepping down on the side of the reptile's torso to gain some traction, Semil reached down with both hands to yank the blade free. The deep red pool beneath his feet started to grow faster as the blade wrenched free, no longer obstructing the free flow of the now dead creature's blood.
Righting himself again with the mek'leth now in hand, Semil took notice of the long, deep gashes along the sides of his upper arms; the left side worse than the right. The Gorn's claws had done some impressive damage, despite the reptile's ultimate disadvantage.
Semil could feel the distant echo of the pain, but noted that he still retained most of his range of motion. He supposed this is what the 'looks worse than it is' line he kept hearing from his Jem'Hadar meant.
The squeal behind him reminded Semil of the first Gorn. He turned to look, and found the creature shrieking and writhing on the corridor floor, clutching its thigh as he lay in his own growing pool of blood. The creature's tail thrashed about uselessly.
So he had not managed to bleed out, after all. Just the same, best to take care of this quickly before moving on.
With the Gorn clearly more focused on trying to control his own bleeding, Semil found it possible to creep up to him, staying out of line of sight in spite of the reptile's side-positioned eyes.
The creature still did not give any indication it had seen him when Semil stepped down on the creature's nearer arm with one foot, and and with a single movement, slashed the blade down, across, and through the Gorn's neck.
The creature's wails turned to shrieks and gurgles as it spasmed and convulsed in place before coming to rest.
He had some vague memories of disemboweling a Nausicaan further back. Maybe a Lethean, too? Nevermind - the immediate task was getting out of the corridor, and out of sight.
He was decidedly unclear, as with so many things in his present circumstances, why he had been drawn in this direction. But his certainty and clarity were crystalline and perfect.
The access panel popped out with a touch, granting him access to the actuator circuitry guiding the door mechanism. Bypassing the security lockouts was a trivial matter, certainly moreso than the uncertainty that lay behind the door. More guards, perhaps.
The panels of the door gave way with a disgruntled sigh, and he stepped through.
Inside, an office or laboratory of some sorts gave him access to numerous control panels, and behind those, a bank of darkened monitors.
Curiosity merged with pragmatism, as he stepped towards the consoles gingerly. With a few keystrokes, the panel alighted with information, glowing orange against his pale, ashen skin. Status reports, medical records, personnel files, some kind of database of recordings...?
A few more keystrokes, and the bank of monitors behind him awoke, displaying vaguely familiar sights. He recognized his bunk after a few moments, despite having never quite appreciated it from that angle. Only then did Semil recognize his own figure laying in it - asleep. On the next monitor, he was seated alone at the small dinette -- breakfasting, he'd imagined.
On and on, the displays went - timestamped differently, with no one else appearing other than himself.
Semil had suspected this was no ordinary incarceration or imprisonment; clearly this was only the first clear evidence to compel him to look further.
He turned his attention back to the control panel, his fingers dancing over the keypads with new determination.
The displays scrolled through file directories - he knew he had little time before having to continue on.
He paused, spotting something and scrolling back to it.
"Project Overview", it was titled. It can't really be this simple, can it?
Semil's eyes widened as he began skimming through the file, taking note of the numerous cross-linked files.
It occurred to him that whoever's office this was, clearly had some weight and authority in matters. On a whim, he tried inputting few commands, and he found he could track the movements of personnel throughout the compound.
The files would have to wait. He keyed in download commands into the database, taking note of the bank of isolinear processors and memory crystals beneath the console. He reached for the blade while staring intently at the map of the facility, paying close attention to the few icons moving through it.
Semil paused at the unfamiliar door. The alert klaxons blared to no one in particular in the corridor, even though Semil had little doubt it was for him. As he crouched in the doorway, he stared intently at the two Gorn that had cautiously entered the hallway ahead of him.
It was clear they hadn't yet seen him; Gorn preferred to rush their opponents, relying on brute physical prowess. Having only the element of surprise, it was clear he would have to act quickly, instinctually. No time for planning or strategizing beyond recognizing that he could never win against a Gorn in very close quarters. He would have to stay quick and strike precisely to overcome their sheer reach and strength. He gripped the blade of the mek'leth tighter in preparation.
From his crouch, Semil lept forward at the nearer Gorn. Leading with his momentum, his right arm swept forward with the blade; his eyes intent on making sure the edge reached its target.
With the strength of his legs and stride reaching up through his spine into the blade through his arm, the blade slashed at the Gorn's inner thigh just as he growled out recognition of the Vorta in his vision.
Without having to look, Semil knew that the strike had been a success. The warm spurt against his face and neck as he continued to accelerate could only mean that he had managed to sever the Gorn's femoral artery. He would have to hope and trust that he had also managed to cut a tendon or two in order to immobilize the gargantuan reptile just long enough for him to take care of his partner.
Coming up on the second Gorn, approaching a full sprint, he could just make out the putrescent smell of his breath - some unholy combination of rotten fish. The breath came just ahead of the impressive roar the creature let out, as it drew its arms back and out in order to strike with its claws.
This would be his only real chance. With one last thrust of all of the strength in his legs, Semil leapt, hoping to time the kick of his legs in the air just right. With his legs springing forward into the middle of the belly of the creature, the Gorn stumbled back.
Semil had not quite anticipated the solid bulk of the massive reptile, sending him wobbling as he splayed out his free hand to assist with landing. At least the attack had not gone fully awry, he thought as he steadied his balance.
He looked up to assess the condition of the second Gorn, who had tripped up on his own feet as he reeled backwards. So not enough of a kick to knock him off his feet by itself, but enough to take advantage of this particular one's clumsiness. Semil thought to himself that he would have to reconsider the force of luck in the nature of the universe, at some later date.
For now, he would have to finish the immediate task at hand for that later date to arrive. He sprinted ahead again at the Gorn, who had just splayed his own hands at his side to try and get up.
Big mistake. With only a few steps to build speed, Semil dove down atop the mammoth beast, aiming the weight of his landing into the handle of the blade, which he steadied with both hands, prepared to meet the resistance of armor, if not the tough reptilian hide the Gorn were so famous for.
Semil could hear the cracking of ribs, over the Gorn's wails not long before he felt the dull thud of his own body landing atop the Gorn.
A hot sting on his shoulders must've meant the Gorn had managed to start a desperate swipe with his claws before being pinned by the blade. It had all happened fast enough that Semil could only hope that the balance of injury was on his side.
Though not having shut his eyes, it still took a moment for the Vorta to recognize he had succeeded. The Gorn's muscular arms weakened and slowly began to fall to the side. Semil could feel the rasp of their scales as the strength behind them fell silent.
Silent too, was the Gorn's voice - as the shrieking wail weakened to a viscous gurgle, then a last sigh. Semil let go of the blade long enough to right himself and stand, noting the mek'leth positioned perpendicular to the midsection of the now unmoving reptile. Maybe not a lethal blow to the heart, but surely dissecting the Gorn's aorta had to have worked just as well.
Stepping down on the side of the reptile's torso to gain some traction, Semil reached down with both hands to yank the blade free. The deep red pool beneath his feet started to grow faster as the blade wrenched free, no longer obstructing the free flow of the now dead creature's blood.
Righting himself again with the mek'leth now in hand, Semil took notice of the long, deep gashes along the sides of his upper arms; the left side worse than the right. The Gorn's claws had done some impressive damage, despite the reptile's ultimate disadvantage.
Semil could feel the distant echo of the pain, but noted that he still retained most of his range of motion. He supposed this is what the 'looks worse than it is' line he kept hearing from his Jem'Hadar meant.
The squeal behind him reminded Semil of the first Gorn. He turned to look, and found the creature shrieking and writhing on the corridor floor, clutching its thigh as he lay in his own growing pool of blood. The creature's tail thrashed about uselessly.
So he had not managed to bleed out, after all. Just the same, best to take care of this quickly before moving on.
With the Gorn clearly more focused on trying to control his own bleeding, Semil found it possible to creep up to him, staying out of line of sight in spite of the reptile's side-positioned eyes.
The creature still did not give any indication it had seen him when Semil stepped down on the creature's nearer arm with one foot, and and with a single movement, slashed the blade down, across, and through the Gorn's neck.
The creature's wails turned to shrieks and gurgles as it spasmed and convulsed in place before coming to rest.
He had some vague memories of disemboweling a Nausicaan further back. Maybe a Lethean, too? Nevermind - the immediate task was getting out of the corridor, and out of sight.
He was decidedly unclear, as with so many things in his present circumstances, why he had been drawn in this direction. But his certainty and clarity were crystalline and perfect.
The access panel popped out with a touch, granting him access to the actuator circuitry guiding the door mechanism. Bypassing the security lockouts was a trivial matter, certainly moreso than the uncertainty that lay behind the door. More guards, perhaps.
The panels of the door gave way with a disgruntled sigh, and he stepped through.
Inside, an office or laboratory of some sorts gave him access to numerous control panels, and behind those, a bank of darkened monitors.
Curiosity merged with pragmatism, as he stepped towards the consoles gingerly. With a few keystrokes, the panel alighted with information, glowing orange against his pale, ashen skin. Status reports, medical records, personnel files, some kind of database of recordings...?
A few more keystrokes, and the bank of monitors behind him awoke, displaying vaguely familiar sights. He recognized his bunk after a few moments, despite having never quite appreciated it from that angle. Only then did Semil recognize his own figure laying in it - asleep. On the next monitor, he was seated alone at the small dinette -- breakfasting, he'd imagined.
On and on, the displays went - timestamped differently, with no one else appearing other than himself.
Semil had suspected this was no ordinary incarceration or imprisonment; clearly this was only the first clear evidence to compel him to look further.
He turned his attention back to the control panel, his fingers dancing over the keypads with new determination.
The displays scrolled through file directories - he knew he had little time before having to continue on.
He paused, spotting something and scrolling back to it.
"Project Overview", it was titled. It can't really be this simple, can it?
Semil's eyes widened as he began skimming through the file, taking note of the numerous cross-linked files.
It occurred to him that whoever's office this was, clearly had some weight and authority in matters. On a whim, he tried inputting few commands, and he found he could track the movements of personnel throughout the compound.
The files would have to wait. He keyed in download commands into the database, taking note of the bank of isolinear processors and memory crystals beneath the console. He reached for the blade while staring intently at the map of the facility, paying close attention to the few icons moving through it.
