ten_fwd_ooc | TEST DRIVE #6 - The Bridge and Ten Forward

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test drives

TEST DRIVE #6 - The Bridge and Ten Forward

Option 01. Ten Forward: The first thing you see is a bar. A large, lively bar filled with many different faces and many different smells, sights and sounds. This is Ten Forward, the Enterprise's off-duty lounge; feel free to get acquainted with your fellow travelers and try to find somebody who's in charge: this is your new home now, after all...

Option 02. The Bridge: Well, aren't you a lucky duck? You've found yourself in hallowed quarters. Wherever you were before, you're not there anymore. Now you're in a room that could be some kind of command center or control room; there's a captain's chair flanked by seats for his chief officers, computer panels and stations at each interior wall, and before you a broad viewscreen that shows the wide expanse of space rushing towards you. Have you ever wanted to be a starship captain for a day? Well, here's your chance. Feel free to roam around, but try not to touch anything shiny.

[OOC: The Bridge isn't usually available for in-game posts, so if you've ever wanted to play there, here's your chance!]

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The doctor is clearly trying his best to defuse the situation - non-threatening posture, a steady voice - and it rankles, bristling under skin. He's not some mindless beast to be tamed by a friendly hand and a soft voice - say what you like about him being a cornered animal, but if there's one thing that Khan knows, it's that he's better.

"Given the fact that the Enterprise was a smoking wreck not an hour ago, I find that I don't believe you."

He shakes the ensign briefly, in emphasis, and the man twists to strike him - brave, but stupid. Khan is fast, far faster than a human, and all it takes to render the crew member unconscious is a swift blow to the temple.

He allows the man to slump to the ground, but keeps one hand fisted in the collar of his uniform. When his gaze raises back to Julian's, it's very nearly predatory.

"Now. Where am I?"

Julian's eyes narrow, for just a moment, as he judges the speed at which the other man moves. He has to reassess--there's definitely something other than human about him. Of all people to be qualified to make that assessment, Julian's sure he's one of them. If anything, he's reminded of a Jem'Hadar soldier.

He puts his hands down, voice going from conciliatory to cool. He's still rooted to the spot, and there is no waver in his voice, no tic to peg him as lying--because he's not.

"The USS Enterprise-D, Galaxy-class, under Captain Jean-Luc Picard. The year is 2366."

It's the year that stills him, pale eyes immediately searching the doctor's face for any hint of deception. When he can find none, his grip slackens tentatively. A hundred years. More than enough time for records of his identity to be destroyed, perhaps. But he has to be sure.

"And what of Captain Kirk?" There's a peculiar tone to his voice - anger, though that could be chalked up to circumstance, but also some thread of respect. Khan didn't particularly like Kirk, but he could respect a man who commanded that much loyalty from his crew. Kirk had a conscience - it was just a pity that he'd turned on Khan first.

Depends on which identity he was counting on to have been destroyed.

Julian tilts his head--of course Captain Kirk was famous, but he didn't think--with the anger there in his voice, which made sense with his boast of the Enterprise being a wreck, and the fact that he attacked an Ensign, Julian didn't think Kirk would have been one of this man's first concerns.

"He was killed in action on the maiden voyage of the Enterprise-B in 2293." Presumed, because he actually hadn't been. But that would be calling on knowledge that wouldn't become commonplace until a few years from now.

Edited 2014-11-18 01:42 (UTC)

"Then he survived in my time." And his crew hadn't. Stare cooling considerably, Khan weighs his options. If it's true, if any hope of escape comes at the hands of this 'Q', then he's already set himself at a disadvantage in injuring one of their crew. They'll have alerted security, and he is unwilling to submit to Starfleet custody again - not after Section 31. Not after Marcus.

If three hundred years hadn't changed human nature, after all, then he doubts another hundred made any difference either.

Grip loosening, Khan allows the ensign to slump from his hands, taking a measured step back. "Collect your crewman," he says, as though he's conferring a favor and not releasing a hostage. Every step Julian - and the rest of the bar's patrons - may take is being tracked by pale, wary eyes.

Julian steps forward fearlessly--he's cautious, but that and fear are not at all the same thing--to check the man's vitals, and then satisfied that he's not severely injured, passes him off to his friends to get to Sickbay.

"It wasn't an idle offer when I said I could treat your injuries," he says--explanation for why he stayed. There were more than enough doctors here, Doctor Crusher, Trance, Simon, or McCoy could see to the knocked out Ensign. He wasn't willing to let this man out of his sight--not that he was Security, but he was certainly curious.

It only takes a few minutes for the unconscious ensign to be hauled off, which is more than enough time for Khan to mentally catalog his own injuries. His ribs are broken - at least one has nicked a lung and punctured something more vital - he's hemorrhaging internally, fractured his left ulna, and easily has half a dozen cuts and burns.

At the doctor's offer, though, his expression shutters. "That won't be necessary," he says, shaking his head. The moment he steps into the Sickbay, any hope of hiding his identity is lost. "They will heal."

Which is the truth, if not the way a human might put it. Given time and rest - more than he has been getting - and Khan's injuries will vanish like they'd never existed at all. He won't even scar.

He hasn't been the type lately to tip his hand and show exactly what he was capable of. There were only a handful of people on the ship that did know--at least, he presumed Ezri Dax did, since she was from the future, and well after he'd been outed.

"You're favoring your right side, breathing impaired--punctured lung, at a guess, likely from broken ribs considering how your ribcage seems to be a touch lopsided. You're pale and sweating, pointing towards internal bleeding. Not to mention the lacerations and burns. And may I also mention your heartbeat's been picking up, that's another sign of internal bleeding that should be checked out before you keel over."

Seriously, do not be stubborn about this, Julian had someone threaten to kill him his second shift in, he's not exactly intimidated or impressed by people saying they're tough.

That's... a startlingly accurate assessment, judging by the slight lift to Khan's eyebrows. It was impressive - and suspicious.

"And how, exactly, are you aware of my heartbeat?" He steps closer, and it's almost a prowl despite his aforementioned injuries. A human could pick up on his breathing and his pallor, would perhaps be observant enough to notice his ribs, but his heartbeat? No. That was beyond their ability.

And yet, this man has.

"Am I wrong?" Julian challenges, instead of giving a direct answer. At least now he'll be more interested in Julian himself than putting anyone else in chokeholds. He can deal with threats to himself perfectly fine.

There you go, assuming he's human. Correct, in this instance, but terribly ethnocentric of you.

Khan drags in a shallow, amused breath, curiosity thoroughly piqued. "You are not," he concedes, and takes another step. "And yet, you didn't answer my question, doctor."

Because now Julian has his interest, like a cat with a new toy, and Khan finds that he's more than willing to let the good doctor keep up his game of distraction. For now.

Yes, this was a dangerous game. But Julian liked to play them--he missed dancing around Garak, and so perhaps he was being too daring.

"You'll have to be cleared by Sickbay no matter what you do, everyone has to be. Unless you want to remain under quarantine the whole time you're here."

That's no way to gather information, Khan, surely you'll do something to take advantage of the opportunity.

"It's one of the symptoms of internal bleeding. I merely guessed, you're the one that admitted to it."

"And if I choose neither option?" It'ss perhaps revealing too much, but short of being rendered unconscious - he like to see them try - and bodily dragged there, Khan is not going to Sickbay. The moment they scan him, the moment they take a blood sample, they'll know. His blood can cure disease. His mind can build warships. His body can survive the crash landing of a starship.

Khan is better. And in his experience? Humans have always sought to exploit that.

Tell that to Julian, who nearly got kicked out of Starfleet for being enhanced--granted, to a far lesser degree. He does look sympathetic at least. There's been multiple people who have been less than enthusiastic about the scans.

"I'm not sure. Everyone has opted for the exams thus far. I imagine you'd have to take that up with Captain Picard. But really, I doubt you'll be much more of a surprise than the physical embodiment of a sun, capability to remain standing after severe trauma or no."

Khan's able to not just remain standing, but hold a coherent conversation, for all that he looks like he's going to drop where he stands. The high of battle is wearing off, now, pain finally creeping - the augment hides it well, but there's tightening around his eyes that gives him away. His blood, his genes are feverishly fixing the damage, but it'll be a day or more before he's healed.

"My medical history is my own," he replies coolly, clasping his hands behind his back. He knows nothing about this Captain Picard, save that he's of Starfleet, and that is more than enough to damn him in Khan's eyes.

Stubborn. Damnably stubborn, as bad or worse than Garak, and that's saying something.

"Doctor-patient confidentiality is still alive and well, I assure you." Julian's head tilts slightly. He's sure of the fact that there is something about this man that isn't human, whether that be because of parentage or something else. He's still upright, able to speak, and able to be bull-headed about this. Any human--or ones like himself or Dylan--would be down for the count right now.

Considering this man's knowledge of Starfleet, Captain Kirk, his strength and reflexes, his Human appearance belying resilience that few could hope to ever match...Julian has a sinking feeling. He knows Khan and his people had encountered the Enterprise. He also knows that the man in front of him looks nothing like any of the people he knew about from the history books--even with his extensive reading on the subject, anything about the Eugenics Wars and subsequent history he could get his hands on.

It's inconclusive at best. Circumstantial. He has to remember that.

"It would not be divulged. To anyone. We're only here to help you, until all of us get back to where we belong."

For a brief moment, there's a darkly bitter smile on his face, but it vanishes as quickly as it appeared. "I've heard that before." And every time, it's been a lie.

Still, the doctor seems just as bull-headed about getting him there as he is about refusing. It would be enough to make him bristlingly suspicious, but it's clear that this man is a doctor in both profession and ethics.

A rare thing, in his experience.

He cocks his head. "You never gave me your name, doctor."

"You didn't either," Julian says, introductions had sort of fallen by the wayside during the whole choking crewmembers debacle.

He is a very stubborn doctor, it's true. He's never been one to give up on people.

"Julian Bashir."

The name is unfamiliar, but that is expected - everything about this situation is unfamiliar. A different ship, a different Starfleet... the only thing that has been a constant in his life has been himself, and his ability to adapt. To conquer. This is new territory, but Khan will do as he's always done: survive.

But first, he needs to rectify this situation.

"Khan." The augment is watching Julian's face closely, searching. It's a calculated risk - he could have resurrected John Harrison, Section 31's obedient pet, but that man was a known terrorist. He, on the other hand, was a guarded secret. The only question is to how well-guarded. How much had Starfleet let slip, how badly had Section 31 covered their tracks?

Here? They'd never had a thing to cover up. The Botany Bay, and Khan, had been found by the Enterprise. And they'd never been involved. Oh, Julian wouldn't be surprised if they had been, now that he knows--they've tried pulling him into their ranks now, too.

He'd suspected that the man was, somehow, one of the 72. What he hadn't expected was to hear that name in particular, and it shows. His eyes widen, he pales, before he can master his reaction. By then it's too late. He knows even that split second of visible reaction was enough to make it plainly obvious that he knew exactly how significant that name was.

But he's not bolting. He's not calling for Security. Yet. In reality, at this moment, he has no idea what to do. He should by all rights call for assistance--but he knows just how simple it would be for him to mow down everyone in this room before they could even get there.

And Khan catches that reaction, eyes immediately narrowing. It's subtle, but Khan tenses, strength and violence coiling beneath his skin. "You know me."

It's a statement, not a question. Doctor Bashir knows of him, of his reputation, which can only mean that security will soon be sweeping down upon him. The augment's face shutters, eyes hardening, and his gaze shifts from the man before him to the rest of the room. He's taking stock, clearly analyzing his surroundings and preparing for a fight.

He won't be captured again.

Julian holds up a hand, imploring him to wait--his mind scrambling to catch up, to do something to defuse this situation before it escalates further. He can read that promise of violence in tensed muscles, narrowed eyes.

"Wait," he says, followed by a breathy utterance of 'bloody hell', because what else can he really say in this situation. Very little else comes to mind. "Just...wait."

Shit.

But aside from general concern over the doctor approaching this man, the tension in the room hasn't ratcheted up with the admission of his name. No one else heard. No one else seems to recognize him.

"Come to Sickbay. I can explain." He can do something, get him away from these people before they're unknowingly attacked by someone who can lay all of them low without even exerting himself.

And there it is. Khan can read the doctor's concern, his fear. He knows what Khan is capable of, and want to spare his crew it. Noble, if futile. Khan could, and would, tear through this entire room in less time than it would take security to even get close.

It's fortunate, then, that the augment finds himself pausing, with eerie stillness, at Julian's plea. The rest of the bar seems not to have picked up on the tension between the two of them, indicating that they had either not heard, or didn't recognize, who he was. Curious, that this man should, then. Just how much had Starfleet made public?

Come to Sickbay. It was almost certainly a trap, a desperate attempt to lure him away from the crew around them - then, the man had been attempting to get him to the medical wing before Khan had ever revealed himself.

"Very well." The words came with a quiet growl - surprising even himself, though he hid it well. He'll give the doctor a chance - one chance.

Truly speaking, this wasn't even his crew--not aside from the connection he felt to all Starfleet officers, as comrades. Jadzia wasn't here. Neither was Ezri, and despite having just met her, he also knew her well. He didn't want to see her hurt either.

Thank God, though, that he was listening. A switch seems to flip almost instantly, Julian smiling for the edification of the crowd. He's having to play it up far too much lately.

"What a terrible misunderstanding. Off we go, then." And he turns his back, not fearlessly, but because there's really no other option he has at the moment, and walks out the door.

Khan spares no glance for the other patrons - let them assume that the good doctor talked him down, that everything was some sort of accident brought on by the panic of being suddenly translocated. There's no false smile on his part, but he does follow.

Although 'follow' may be too loose a word for the way Khan moves - it's much more of a prowl. He keeps Julian firmly in his sights, but isn't shy about mapping what he can see of the ship, noting the corridors and rooms, deck maps and Jefferies tubes. With each additional scrap of data, his escape options grow.

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