Posted by Civilian Thyr Th’arialat (Resident) in Commercial District - Criminals and the City (Tag Shivan)

Posted by Civilian Jezem (Upstanding Citizen) in Commercial District - Criminals and the City (Tag Shivan)

Posted by Lieutenant Tandra Mika (Counselor) in Commercial District - Criminals and the City (Tag Shivan)
Posted by… suppressed (43) by the Post Ghost! 👻
“Bye, ladies,” Jezem wiggled his fingers after the group of women seated around wide eight-top in the middle of a bar so fancy and pretentious that it’s called a “parlor”. They were like him, bored spouses of the rich with a desire for work that equaled their desire to better themselves as people and contribute to society as a whole. It was simple enough to casually insert himself into their exclusive little group. An orion househusband to a rich ferengi? A cute commodity. Of course they had to take him under their fluffed up wings. And Jezem? Jezem will utilize his extensive skills and training to tear them apart from the inside out.

Oh, the drama to be beautifully mastermind into fruition. There was only one way for this to end and that was with the heel of someone’s shoe smashed into another’s stupid pinched face. And Jezem will be there, watching it all unfold while sipping exotic drinks. Until then he kept himself engaged by stirring up petty drama and pointless arguments. To think he thought he would be bored out of his mind in this no man’s town of Federation space.

Jezem hummed to himself as he strolled confidently throw the commercial district. A pleasant buzz tickled his thoughts. He dressed as he always did in typical Orion garb that barely covered the key parts and left the rest wrapped in shimmery gold. The rich ladies loved it, it made them think him rustic and nouveau riche. A alien to be petted and loved upon while tearing him down in private. The look attracted attention and Jezem welcomed it.

He turned towards what he would ungenerously call the rough side of the commerce district. The good and proper citizens whispered about this area with wide eyes and endless rumors. Idiots, all of them. All that fear and trepidation over a barely criminal sector that a syndicate port would call mockingly describe as cute. Though he was an upstanding citizen now, Jezem craved the excitement of his old life and this was the closest he’s going to get to that. Perhaps he’ll get lucky and something interesting will happen here today.

Jezem

If this was all the ‘rough’ district in this city had to offer, it was lucky this was where Shivan, or Thyr as he was known here, ended up here. He had no money. More or less nothing with him, he’d had to leave behind everything that might look suspicious. He had to keep this identity clean at least for now. And this seemed like a pretty safe ‘rough’ district, at least for him. No one who knew him would be here. Probably. He could hope.

“Thyr” headed down the road, head ducked down, wearing clothes he’d picked up on the freighter he’d used to get to this dumb rock. He needed to find a way to make money. He couldn’t stay here. It was only so long before those after him figured out what he’d done, no matter how unlikely he thought it was for him to be recognized here. And then they’d come after him.

Shivan’s point was made when he saw a familiar face: green skin, skimpy clothes, stupid face. It could be no other. He headed over and came close to the man. “Jezem!” He hissed in his ear.

~ Thyr Th’arialat

The scuff of shoes on the ground, heavy with the weight of muscle. Larger than Jezem. Casual approach. The orion kept himself limber and lose, ready to act a moments notice. And then. Gods no. Jezem spun around, fury written upon his face. Not this ice-blood with a face so dopey it put inbred dogs to shame. And that haircut. Like a starfleet cadet lost a practice battle with a buzzer. “Gods! Stop spitting in my ears I can hear you just fine from over there.”

Jezem wiped his ears like Shivan carried the Denobulan plague, “What in the hundred hells are you doing here? This is a Federation colony! And gods, where did you get those clothes? Are they the unwanted scraps of a donation bin?”

Jezem

Shivan kept close, his voice low, “At least my breath doesn’t smell like a Tellarite’s backside.” He looked around cautiously like someone might jump out to get him, “Who else is here? Anyone we know? Or just your sorry bum?” Despite the sarcastic remark, his voice was low and full of caution and worry.

Then he looked down at himself, straightening the shirt he wore under a denim jacket, “No… They’re out of a shipment on a freighter.” He made a face, “I think it was headed to whatever colony likes to act like 1990’s Earth.” He wore a blue denim jacket with gold snaps, a white t shirt, and a pair of sweatpants. It was not at all his normal style.

~ Thyr Th’arialat

Jezem snapped, “Stop reminding me of your weird fetish,” He tried to step back but Shivan would not let up. Does he not know how suspicious he’s acting right now? A big andorian male looming over a smaller orion and not taking the hint to back off? Yeah, real classy. This is why Shivan was never allowed to make important decisions. “They’re the ugliest clothes I’ve ever seen,” he said with a sneer before continuing, “How would I know? I’m clean now. Living the life of a kept man, a trophy husband.” His words oozed pride.

Shivan snorted and then outright laughed, finally stepping back a little. “Jezem! Clean! Ha! Hahahaha! No way! That will never happen!” He ignored Jezem’s other comments. “You? A trophy husband? I’d sooner believe Adr’ik married off. Besides, who’d be dumb enough to marry you?” Adr’ik was a Klingon they’d both known in the past. And not a pretty one.

The only ugly one here was Shivan. Jezem would know, he’s seen him naked. Poor man is never going to get a lady.

Shivan wasn’t actually ugly. Well, with his current haircut, maybe. But Jezem had the weirdest taste in men. Shivan would never understand it.

Jezem narrowed his eyes at Shivan, “You haven’t answered my question. What are you doing in a Federation Colony?”

Jezem

Shivan looked around again, “I needed to hide, and ASAP.” He sighed dramatically, “I was on a job, but it went south. I mean, bad. My.... ex-employer will skin me and hang my exoskeleton if he finds me. Where better to hide from our own kind than a Federation colony? I can’t stay here, either they’ll figure out what the hell I did and trace me, or the Federation will figure out who I am. But I have no money left and no way to contact anyone to help me.” If anyone would come for him, anyway.

~ Thyr Th’arialat

Why was he not surprised? Jezem regarded Shivan cooly, lips pursed and gaze steady. Let the ice-blood stew in his exoskeleton for a bit. Gods, he should leave Shivan to suffer the consequences of his own poor planning. The man couldn’t even handle paying his syndicate dues! Shivan would have wasted all his money on weapons and guns if left to his own devices. After a minute of needless, stretched-out consideration he spoke, “You’re lucky I’m so bored out of my godsdamned mind in this dump. I’ll help you but my help comes at a cost.”

Jezem

Shivan blanched. “Did you miss the part where I said I’m BROKE? As in DIRT poor? Not a dime to my name? What exactly do you expect me to pay you in? Because I know you’re not interested in,” he cleared his throat “personal payments.”

~ Thyr Th’arialat

“Gods! You are disgusting!!” Jezem spat, his shoulders up and fists clenched until he resembled an irate cat. Gods! The blood he would sacrifice to remove that mental image from his head forever! Jezem had to turn away from the andorian and force himself to take calm breaths. Great, now he’s the one causing a scene. Though maybe he should. Just because this was the shady part of town didn’t mean police didn’t patrol. All he had to do was call out until some goody came running and arrested Shivan for sexual harassment.

Shivan shrugged. It wasn’t like it was something he’d want to do either. But certainly something that had been requested of him before, by… less scrupulous debtors.

Calm down. As fun as that would be it would squander this amazing opportunity that dropped itself directly into his lap. Sure gradually devolving a gaggle of rich women into violence and hate was fun. This? The potential fun he could extract from Shivan made everything else pale in comparison. Once Jezem evened his breathing he spun around on his heel and jabbed a finger into Shivan’s chest. Right between the pectorals, where it would hurt the most.

“I don’t need payment now, you idiot. Think of it as putting yourself into debt. I help you now and you pay me back later. How? I’m not sure. But if you ever make another vile suggestion like that again I’ll gut you where you stand.”

Jezem

Shivan backed up to avoid Jezem’s finger, still getting poked decently hard. “It wouldn’t be my first choice, either.” He pretended to gag for a moment. Then, “What do you have in mind?” He’d have loved to say he didn’t need help, but the truth was, he really didn’t have the option to turn help down. And he had admittedly, missed Jezem as their ship’s captain.

~ Thyr Th’arialat

Jezem, now more composed, crossed his arms across his chest, “Nothing you wouldn’t be able to pay. I’m not going to screw you over and put you into a worse state.” They were shipmates once and that meant something. The syndicate may have been a criminal organization but it is not without honor. After giving things a moment’s thought he smiled. Something that should tell Shivan he was up to no good. Jezem only smiled at the suffering of others, “I happen to know the perfect job for you. It’s easy and it comes with a disguise that has no chance of anyone recognizing your distinctly ugly mug.”

Jezem

Shivan trusted Jezem only because they had been shipmates. Anybody else he would fully expect to get screwed by, in one way or another. But that smile created a sense of dread in Shivan. Whatever the job was, it was either difficult, humiliating, or a death trap. “What is it?” He asked apprehensively.

~ Thyr Th’arialat

Jezem breezed past Shivan and loosely motioned for the andorian to follow, “It’s best to see for yourself, I wouldn’t want you to over think it before we get there. Though, it’s not like you’re in any position to turn down work. Unless you like picking your meals from dumpsters and ducking behind corners at the sight of every officer and low-life?” Which, sparked an idea in Jezem’s head, “In fact, I’ll take care of your meals for free. I am an honest man now. One capable of. . . generosity,” the word slid unevenly from his mouth, awkward and alien.

Jezem

The offer was unbeatable. Work and free meals with minimal strings attached? Shivan would have to be the dumbest criminal alive to turn that down. Still, he dreaded learning what the job was. “You? Generous? I might just die now.” He scoffed, following Jezem.

~ Thyr Th’arialat

“Gods, still as dramatic as ever,” Jezem said airily. The cauldron calling the kettle black. With confidence Jezem lead their way through the commercial district towards the kinder and boring parts. Guiding their merry stroll with no commentary or small talk to ease the silence. The less he said to Shivan the better really. Though they were shipmates, back then they could hardly say five sentences to one another before one flew into a fit of rage and viciously attacked the other.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity but was really twenty minutes Jezem ushered Shivan around the side of a kitshy tourist shop and through the back door. There a human male was taking inventory. He smiled at the sight of Jezem, “Well if it isn’t the lovely jewel. Is this a personal visit or business?”

“Business, Hank. My good friend here, he’s from out of town you see, is in a bit of a bind. He’s in desperate need of a job and he’s perfect for your open position!” Jezem stepped aside so Hank could come forward and give Shivan a head-to-toe assessing look.

Shivan was skinnier than Jezem would remember, like he’d probably gone a while without regular meals. He was missing some of his usual muscle tone, but still plenty muscular and lean. He was tall and lanky with some muscular bulk to him.

Hank smiled, “He’s the perfect size! The job is yours if you want it! You get paid holidays and we can pay you day by day or weekly.”

Jezem

“Day by day is fine.” Shivan held out a hand. “Thyr Th’arialat. What’s the job?” He said the name like it was completely natural. He must have rehearsed it a thousand times. Was this… An honest job? He hadn’t had one of those since his days in Starfleet Academy. He… Hadn’t been very good at them. This wouldn’t last long. But he didn’t need it too. Just long enough to get off this rock.

~ Thyr Th’arialat

Hank shook “Thyr’s” hand with a firm grim, “You’ll be our new Mr. Fuzzy Foot!” He released Shivan’s hand and ducked behind the shelves and into a previously hidden supply closet. A moment later he reappeared dragging a costume that seemed to be 90% fuzzy neon green fur, 5% big googly eyes and 5% giant but equally fuzzy shoes. “You’ll wear this and stand out front to greet the kids and hand them balloons. I tell ya, the kids love Mr. Fuzzy Foot! They’re so sweet. The suit has a cooling unit inside so you don’t need to worry about overheating.” Hank shoved the suit into Shivan’s arms, “Go on and try it on! There’s a changing room right over there.”

And Jezem couldn’t keep a straight face to save his life.

Jezem

Shivan stared at the neon green animal suit with a slack jawed, utterly shocked impression. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” There was another word to be found in that sentence that the kids definitely wouldn’t appreciate. “Hank, was it? May I have a moment to speak to my friend here, please? Just a second.” Shivan said, costume under his arm. “In private, preferably.”

~ Thyr Th’arialat

“Suuuuure?” Hank said, though his eyes said ‘will you be alright?’.

Jezem waved the human off, “Go check up on your cronies up front.” Hank nodded, grinned, and saluted Jezem as he took his leave through a door that lead to the front of house. The sliding door slid shut with a soft pneumatic hisssss and sealed them off from anyone else. At once the laughter Jezem held back came loose, “Gooooods! Your face!” He cackled, “You were so sheezet!”

Jezem

“I hate your guts.” Shivan commented dryly. “You expect me to stand on the street in THIS? Have you lost your MIND? The hell is wrong with you?!” Shivan started in on one of his tirades, trying to keep the volume down. “I HATE children! Can’t you find me ANYTHING else?” He put his hands on Jezem’s shoulders, “I will DIE of humiliation!”

~ Thyr Th’arialat

Jezem laughed and laughed until he was clutching his sides. Eventually he gasped in enough air to calm himself and form a proper reply, “So dramatic. No one will even know it’s you. Your whole body will be hidden inside that monstrosity. Think about it, you idiot. It’s the perfect job. You’ll be hidden, you’ll work for a man you have never met before today and has no connection to your usual line of work. Daily pay and free meals from me. Or is the prospect of handing out balloons to children more terrifying than people who would love to have a few words with you?” He kept his language vague, they were inside an honest business with security cameras after all.

Jezem

Shivan shuddered. The people who’d “love to have a word with” him no doubt had very painful punishments in mind. Probably a painful death. “Alright. I’ll do it.” He sighed and stuttered the words out like he might choke on them. “Th-hhh-ank y-yooou. I guess.” He pretended to gag at the suit.

~ Thyr Th’arialat

This dumb idiot. Jezem smiled, pleased with this outcome. Shivan was right, it’ll be humiliating to wear that get-up and Jezem will be there to watch him struggle and suffer. Once, Jezem considered making the andorian bleed blue was the most satisfying thing to experience, but this? Oh this was so much more. “You’re oooooh so welcome, Thyr. It’s all my pleasure.”

Jezem

Good, Jezem had caught on to the name change. Shivan was worried about that. “I swear I’ll get you back for this,” he hissed, then he went out and told Hank he’d take the job. After a few moments he was changed into the ugly, stinky suit and stood where he was supposed to stand with a bundle of balloons. And for several hours he was the grouchiest, angriest Mr Fuzzy Foot ever, with the foulest mouth. But the balloons were handed out and he did the job as described. And he hated every second. When he had a break, he took the head off the costume and breathed a long breath. “Fresh air! Finally!”

~ Thyr Th’arialat

Jezem entertained himself by chatting with Hank upfront and watching Shivan flounder at his new job. Halfway through the andorian’s first shift he vanished and came back several minutes later with a cold bottled drink and a wrapped sandwich. The food was typical human fare but Shivan would have to deal since Jezem hadn’t had any time to add Shivan into his weekly meal planning. Throughout the later half of the Shivan’s shift Jezem would come and go but somehow was always present when the children were particularly rowdy and troublesome.

Shivan was known for making fun of and mocking human food, yet he inhaled the sandwich without complaint in record time. Then he chugged the drink. He complained to Jezem about the kids, the suit, the weather, and anything else he could think of. This job was going to drive him into a murderous rage.

He returned at the end however, and tossed Shivan a clean towel, “I know that thing has climate control but you stink like a pig. Clean up and let’s go.”

Jezem

As soon as Hank said he could, Shivan was out of the suit. It was stinky and miserable and despite the cooling system, too hot. Way too hot. The cooling was set for humans. Not an andorian. He caught the cold towel and and wiped down his face and neck. “Couldn’t be happier to, Cap-, I mean, Jezem.”

Unfortunately for him, it was Recognize Shivan Day. And he’d taken off his perfect disguise, back at his break period and now. “Hey! Watch it!” Someone shouted, as a figure pushed passed them, rushing for Shivan.

The voice made Shivan turned, and he immediately recognized the tall woman… Klingon. Shivan and Jezem would both be able to tell the posture of someone concealing a weapon. He began to quickly back up. “Shiyr… Heeeey, we can work this out, promiiiise. I’ll get you your phaser shipment,” he chuckled, grinning. “I just need more tiiiime.” Continuing to back up he raised his hands in a “don’t hurt me” gesture.

~ Thyr Th’arialat

Hank caught Jezem’s eyes from across the room. Jezem inclined his head and Hank, gods bless him, quickly left. The other staff already retreated. Someone was sure to grab the nearest security officer. Jezem remained still and calm, quietly assessing the situation. They can’t stay here. But there’s an alley behind the back that branches off into several smaller paths for workers and maintenance. From there a connection to the tunnels under the city.

Jezem advanced forward, bringing attention to himself, “Ice-blood! You better not be thinking of handing my shipment to this kelg,” He spat at Shivan. Jezem paused, as though realizing something. He snarled, “Or is the shipment even real at all? How many others have you lied too? You said the goods were stashed behind this place. Prove it’s real or I’ll let this kelg have her fun with you.”

Jezem

The Klingon woman, who apparently Shivan knew as Shiyr, scoffed. “Exactly how many people did you promise this shipment to?” She was still moving in on an increasingly stressed looking Shivan. “Your dishonest tactics have become tiresome!” To her, Shivan was no longer worth the trouble.

“Only the two of you! Shyir and Tahl. But the job was botched! If I’d tried to finish it and get enough to supply you both, I’d be dead or on a penal col-” Shivan tripped backward over something on the ground and fell heavily with an “Ugh-Oof!” And thwack! He seemed dazed and it took him a moment to prop himself up on his elbows and keep talking, “And if you kill me, I can’t get you twice the payload next time!” A promise they both knew he couldn’t deliver on.

~ Thyr Th’arialat

“Shyir, was it?” Jezem turned to face the klingon, “I’m inclined to believe you could cause this fool greater suffering than I. Let’s take him for a walk so that we may make our displeasure plain upon his flesh before any stars-in-their-eyes Federation enforcers come and spoil our fun.” He breezed past Shivan without sparing the Andorian a single look and shouldered open the back door into the alley. Later he’ll beg Hank to purge the security footage. Right now this situation must be contained.

Jezem

Shiyr followed Jezem, leaning down momentarily to grab Shivan by the shoulder and hoist him up, keep him close and dragging him along earning her an indignant, “HEY! Let me go you ugly-”

“Shut it before I put you out of your misery now, ice-blood!” In what seemed like less than a blink, the Klingon’s d’k tahg was poised against Shivan’s chest. It was a three pronged blade, the center blade being the longest and most like a regular dagger, the outer two more like sharpened, elongated points on the crossbar.

~ Thyr Th’arialat

Jezem glanced both ways before motioning Shiyr to follow him, but not before mockingly throwing over his shoulder, “Be a good boy and listen to the nice lady.” He lead the way through the maze-like back alleys and narrow maintenence halls until they came upon an isolated section hidden between two massive waste disposal processing machines. Perfect.

A cruel smile took over Jezem’s face as he watched Shivan struggle against the klingon, “For someone who deals in weapons you’re surprisingly pathetic.” He stepped forward, “Though I would barely call you a weapons dealer when you can’t even supply the weapon!” Jezem spat those words, getting up in Shivan’s face. “Do you pray to any gods? Start now because soon you’ll be in their hands.”

Shivan was struggling hard against the Klingon but her grip was like the iron of his weapons. He felt like he’d have to dislocate his shoulder to free himself.... Not that he hadn’t done that before. “I told you! I’ll get it! Do you expect me to produce these things from thin air? It takes time to locate a shipment and rob it!”

He placed one hand on his hip, flingers splayed back towards his tailbone. There, just under the top of his loincloth was the glint of gold.

Jezem

Was that… A weapon? Was Jezem going to save him? Shivan glanced at the gold he was sure he saw in the top of… A very awkward area, and then up to Jezem’s face. Shiyr had him held so he couldn’t reach Jezem. He was pretty well helpless. Which did feel pathetic.

“Enough talk! Let me skin him and if you’re lucky, I’ll let you sell the organs.” The point of Shiyr’s knife dug into Shivan’s skin, a small blue stain appearing on his white shirt. “This one never fulfills his promises!”

To that Shivan smirked. Not to Shiyr, maybe. She was the worst paying client Shivan had ever had the misfortune of dealing with. Unfortunate that prioritizing the bigger pay day had gotten him into this mess. Then again, Shiyr’s pay wouldn’t have been enough to buy Shivan’s false documents. Shiyr’s grating voice cut off his thoughts, “What’s funny, ice-blood? Do you laugh in the face of death?”

~ Thyr Th’arialat

“He’s laughing at you,” Jezem sneered and moved into action. His fingers wrapped around the grip of his dancer’s blade. Both weapon and embellishment. The gold-plated blade fit snuggly underneath a loin cloth and blended seamlessly with the gold jewelry and adornments favored by orion dancers. Turning a previously assumed unarmed dancer into a snake ready to strike at any moment. Jezem struck quickly and with precision, driving the short, curved blade into the junction of neck and shoulder. Pushing his weight behind the motion to inflict as much pain as possible.

Shiyr did not seem surprised at the drawn weapon. Trust some random? She’d have to be dumber than the dumbest child in a nursery to think this Orion wouldn’t turn on her! She had fought with and worked with Orions before and she knew exactly how deadly one armed with a dancer’s blade could be. As Jezem’s blade made contact with her body, she jerked into Shivan, giving a mighty growl of pain.

Shiyr’s grip could bend steel, Shivan would swear it. Even with her attention on Jezem, he could not break free of her grasp. Then, in a flash, Jezem lunged and Shiyr jerked, her body slamming into his. There was a loud, pained grunt from Shivan.

The orion didn’t stay still, and quickly darted back and to the side hoping to jerk the klingon off balance and pull her away from Shivan. At a moment’s notice he can release his grip upon the weapon and dodge with a dancer’s grace.

Jezem

When Jezem jerked Shiyr, her newly free hand flew to the wound just below her neck, pink blood beginning to ooze down her shoulder. She stumbled away from Shivan, catching herself on the narrow walls of the ally way. Unfortunately for the Andorian, Shiyr was not willing to let go of her blade so easily. With a sickening shulk! the blade came free of Shivan’s body as Shiyr and Shivan were separated by Jezem. Shivan crumpled to the ground with a slight groan.

He kept his grip on the blade, jerking it free as she stumbled back and help the blade up towards his center. A quick glance to Shivan, noting the location of the wound, the flow of blood, pain upon Shivan’s face. Then in a blink his focus was back on Shiyr.

Shivan was face-down, crumpled in on himself, his face contorted in pain. Judging by the arm awkwardly underneath him, he’d attempted to hold the wound. In his position, the wound’s location was obscured from view. The edge of a growing blue stain was visible at the edge of his shirt, along his midbody. If Jezem could see from that angle, there was already some blood on the ground under him. His breaths seemed labored.

Shiyr, Klingon that she was, looked triumphant and ready for a fight. Whether these two were working together or not, she’d done what she’d come to do. All she had to do now was deal with this.... Filth! The tips of her blade, normally a yellowish metal, were a purplish blue, coated in andorian blood. With expert footwork and a sneer on her face, she thrusted the blade towards Jezem’s trunk, trying to force him to dodge and corner himself.

~ Thyr Th’arialat

Except Jezem not only held his ground but stepped forward, bringing the curve of his dancer’s blade up to catch the klingon’s arm in it’s golden curve. As Shiyr’s momentum carried her forward, he gently redirected her arm up and away from him. He pressed himself tight against her side. His free hand raised in a preemptive block to cover his neck and face. As Shiyr continued forward he let her arm slide along the blade’s curve until it reached the soft pits of her arm where he dug the point deep. He jerked the blade back and spun away.

Room to maneuver right or left. Need to land a killing blow. How long could Shivan last? Not long. Jezem snarled and with the fury of the Sisters threw caution to the wind and threw himself forward to drive his blade towards the throat.

Jezem

Shiyr was too large and had moved with too much force to reverse momentum, unable to stop Jezem from working his way close to her. A roar truly worthy of a Klingon warrior emanated from her as his blade found her pit and bit deep into her body. As he spun away, she slashed at him. It was a mistake. It left her wide open to his next maneuver. His blade collided with and then disappeared into her throat. A look of surprise and fury came across her face before relaxing and becoming vacant.

~ Thyr Th’arialat

The klingon fell to the ground, and Jezem prayed to the Sisters and to the Judge to give him time and to give Shivan strength. Jezem raced to the andorian’s side and gently proded for the wound. He needs to be moved. Can’t take him to the hospital. My home? It’s too far on foot. He’ll have to call an autoshuttle. Jezem pulled a device from the folds of cloth covering his chest and sent the request. “You better not die on me or I swear I will find you in the afterlife and kill you there too.”

Jezem’s prodding earned a pained cry from Shivan. Andorians were more resistant to pain than some other species, a perk of their physiology, but Shivan’s wound was severe. A bloody stain had grown, enveloping his left side and his front. His breathing was definitely labored as his chest moved in quick, shallow movements. He groaned something akin to ‘aye’ in a bit of a delayed response to Jezem’s statement. Had the Orion really saved him? Fought to protect him? Color Shivan surprised. His mind was wandering, trying to distract itself from the pain. He wanted the Klingon’s knife! At least then he’d be armed with something half decent. But Shiyr had fallen far from him. No way could he reach it now.

“Brace yourself, I need to carry you. Can you keep pressure on the wound?” If he can get Shivan out of these tight alleys to where the autoshuttle can land then the andorian stood a chance. There were medical supplies at home. Gods, hold on.

Jezem

Shivan gave a slight nod of the head. His right hand was planted firmly over the wound, but it wasn’t doing that much to staunch the bleeding. It looked like he was holding his lower chest, near the bottom of the ribs. Blood oozed at a good pace from the injury. His head was pounding, he’d smacked it a good one when he tripped before the alleyways. Hardly a war wound. Embarrassing, really. This whole incident would be a downright pathetic way to go. Being carried was not going to be pleasant. At least Jezem had been kind enough to warn him. “Ready.” It was a breathed, one word answer meaning he was braced for pick up.

~ Thyr Th’arialat

“Don’t scream,” Jezem said before wrapping Shivan’s arm around his shoulder and lifted with his legs. Gods! So. . . heavy! Jezem’s breath came out in harsh, labored pants. His other arm wrapped around the andoran’s middle and pulled him close to use the side of his chest to keep Shivan’s hand pressed firmly against the wound. “Keep making sounds. If you’re in pain then you’re alive.” Without wasting a moment Jezem half-carried/half-dragged Shivan down the alleys and towards the open road. The orion was no weakling but gods Shivan felt like a lead balloon in his arms.

Don’t scream was a tall order. The movement of his body as Jezem lifted him amplified the pain and sharp stabbing pain seemed to shoot through him, originating from the wound. He did manage not to scream. Instead, he gasped and then groaned quite loudly, “Ah! Aaaahhhhhaaaaahhhhh!” He tried to grip Jezem with the arm Jezem had placed over his shoulders but Shivan’s grip was weak. Then he was leaned against Jezem’s chest and that made it easier to keep his hand clamped down. Each movement brought more pain. Shivan could focus on little else. He wanted to make a snide comment about how much pain he was in but he had neither the breath nor energy. He coughed weakly and the pain caused by it made him want to scream or cry.

One hundred feet. Fifty feet. Ten feet. Light streamed into the alley through the gap in towering buildings. Jezem put on a burst of speed. The autoshuttle gently set down upon the road just next to the alley and blocked the view from the road, “Moan if you’re still awake,” Jezem ordered as he heaved themselves onto the floor of the shuttle. His blade removed Shivan’s shirt in four quick cuts. The cleanest parts were cut into strips that he wrapped around the wound and staunch the bleeding, “Gods, klingon weapons are not to be trifled with.”

Shivan’s grip on Jezem’s shoulders weakened before they exited the alley. He had to keep his other hand clamped down but that was difficult. “hmmmuuuhhh? Ah! Ugghhh!” Shivan groaned, at first trying to respond and then in response to the pain caused by being heaved into the shuttle and placed on the floor. His head was still pounding, but with the pain of the wound he wasn’t focused on it.

Once his shirt was removed, inside the autoshuttle, it was easier to see exactly what was wrong. There was the primary wound, in his upper abdomen, just barely below the chest. The blade had been angled upward on entry. Then two smaller wounds caused by the klingon dagger’s smaller points, one above the primary wound, one below. The primary wound was deep.

His breathing was shallow and labored, his skin turning a paler blue, with whitish tinting. When Jezem started to wrap the wounds in strip’s of Shivan’s shirt, he didn’t want to move his hand. Then he groaned and grunted loudly as Jezem pulled the makeshift bandages tight.

The autoshuttle beeped, requesting the input of their destination. Jezem stretched himself to type in the address with the tip of his fingers. Another beep, input accepted. The shuttle rose with a gentle hum. Jezem pressed both hands to the wound and leaned into it with all his body weight. He hoped it hurt like hell.

Jezem

The pain in his chest felt like it was getting worse. Then Jezem put intense pressure on the wound and Shivan screamed a little. He’d be embarrassed about that later but it hurt like all hell. The movement of the shuttle was gentle and smooth and yet the motion still hurt. Shivan closed his eyes, his legs relaxing some. He had to try and breathe…

~ Thyr Th’arialat

Good. Screaming meant you’re still alive. How long until they get to the house? How much time has passed? Jezem counted Shivan’s breaths. Keep pressure. That wound looked nasty. Beyond anything he could care for. There’s that doctor. . . Time is running out. His eyes screwed shut with effort, Jezem opened his heart and mind to the greater cosmos. Nidosou, Sister of Weeping, shed no tears for this man. Weave not his death veil, and light not the incense of the dead. Gather not the mourners, nor call for your daughters who guide the deceased into their afterlife. I beseech thee, oh Sister. Today shall not be one of tears.

Jezem blinked. The autoshuttle landed with a barely felt thud and then a hiss as the side doors opened. “Stay with me, Shivan.” Jezem went into motion. The journey from the autoshuttle to the house passed in a blur. Somehow he got Shivan onto the expansive dinning table, the next moment he pulled the first aid kit from a kitchen cabinet. At some point he called Argam through the house comms. If asked Jezem couldn’t tell you exactly what he said as he took out a suturing needle and stitches and began to sew the deep wound closed.

Jezem

Shivan groaned weakly when the shuttle landed. There were several loud groans as Jezem pulled him out of the shuttle and dragged him inside and onto their table. He wasn’t even sure where he was anymore. Wasn’t sure he cared. He wasn’t fully conscious. There was searing pain as Jezem started sewing the wound closed, so intense he groaned and screamed weakly again, trying to worm away from Jezem’s hands without being fully aware what he was doing. His breathing was still bad. Rapid and labored and if he breathed too deeply he seemed to be in more pain.

~ Thyr Th’arialat

Jezem cursed Shivan one hundred ways. A thousand years of misfortune served the sorry excuse of a pirate for letting himself get into this kind of mess to begin with. And for making Jezem risk his life in return. Out of the corner of his eyes he caught the shine of the Three Sisters shrine in the main living area. Knowing they where close by and watching over him gave him the strength and the focus to stay on task. In short order he closed the main wound and tied off before moving to the smaller wounds. The medical kit had a blood stimulant hypo and he injected that close to Shivan’s heart per the instructions inside the kit.

Then. Nothing. He had done all that he could. Jezem grabbed all the towels from the kitchen he could fit into his arms and got to mopping up as much blood as he could. Soiled towels were thrown to the floor to be trashed later. He felt Shivan’s pulse at the neck. Still going. Jezem started counting the andorian’s breaths again until the doorbell rang. “The doctor’s here. You’re going to live you sorry, gods-cursed son of a dog. You owe me double-no triple after this.”

The pulse was weak and rapid but at least it was there at all. His breaths were still shallow and rapid. He barely responded to Jezem’s touch or comment outside a soft groan.

Jezem fetched the doctor. He watched from the entryway as the human rushed to the patient’s side and worked. Nidosou, morn not. Hihnaas, curse the soul of that klingon so that she may never no peace in death.

Jezem

The doctor found him to be very anemic and in shock. The blood stimulant hypo was helping correct that but the andorian was still in trouble. He had a concussion found by the scans of the doctor’s hand held medical scanner and the knife had punctured his lung. There was blood in the space in his chest where there shouldn’t be, compressing his lung. His heart rate was rapid, his breathing shallow and labored still. His blood pressure was low, from the shock, but slowly climbing thanks to the stimulant hypo.

~ Thyy Th’arialat

The doctor spoke without looking up from his work, “Get over here because I’m going to need your help.” Though this patient should be taken to a hospital, in situations like this he could demand greater hush money. Jezem did as ordered, and stood by Shivan’s side as the doctor sanitized Shivan’s chest. With smooth, practiced motions the doctor made an incision in the chest to insert a tube and a machine fitted at the incision site to ensure the blood and air will drain.

Jezem became his impromptu nurse and when not cleaning blood from Shivan’s chest, was given the task of injecting various hypos on request. The doctor only spoke when instructing Jezem and worked efficiently.

Jezem

Shivan was fully out by then. His breathing eased as the tube allowed his chest to drain. Slowly his vitals began to normalize. When he was finished, the doctor declared his work done and advised Shivan needed rest and his sutures needed to be kept clean. Watch for signs of infection, if he got worse take him to the hospital or he’d die, and if he did too much and ripped his stitches they needed to be redone.

~ Thyr Th’arialat

“I’ll tie him down to the bed if needed,” Jezem said, “Argam will take care of your reimbursment for you work.” The doctor nodded and without another word left the home and the andorian knocked out cold on the table. Speaking of, how was Jezem going to get him off the table without disturbing his wounds? After several minutes of intensive thought, and one gloriously terrible attempt that shall never be spoke off again. . . He gave up and left Shivan to lie there until he came too.

So, Jezem rolled up his metaphorical sleeves and got to work. Disposing of soiled towels, disinfecting everything the blood touched, disposing of his clothes and thoroughly washing himself under the hottest of water and the strongest of soap. A call to Argam and Hank to ensure that the klingon’s death will never be traced to him. Hank, it turned out, had already dealt with most of the problems there. Jezem completed all his chores and (after checking on Shivan) still had time to start dinner.

Shivan would come too to the smell of heavily spiced orion food and fresh herbed bread. Not much longer until Argam comes home. Jezem couldn’t wait. He’s had a very tiring day.

Jezem