The Shears of Atropos (Parts I & II)

Posted on Apr 02, 2015 @ 1:43pm by Captain Michael Turlogh Kane
Edited on on Apr 02, 2015 @ 1:44pm

Mission: Limbo

"THE SHEARS OF ATROPOS"

(Continued from "Bread And Syntaxes")

*****************************************
*****************************************

"Fate leads him who follows, and drags he who resists."
- Plutarch

*****************************************
*****************************************

Location: Limbo
Stardate: [2.15]0402.0035
Scene: The Sanctum


Tella Yavin, mistress of a million lost souls, leaned back in her seat and steepled her fingers. Behind her, Kajek folded his arms and drew himself up to his full height, the neon club lights painting a rainbow on his blood-red armour. Between them, the very air crackled with menace.

On the opposite side of Tella Yavin's desk sat Kalenda the Black. The spirit of the once-haughty Klingon arms merchant was broken now. Twenty-four hours in the untender care of Kajek had seen to that. Her face was bruised, one of her canine teeth was missing, and her hair hung around her face like a banshee's shawl.

Tella Yavin let the silence draw out for another moment. Intimidation was a precise operation, like drawing blood from a vein. When she finally spoke to the Klingon, it was in a voice much more amenable than the one she had been using up to now.

"You have wronged me many times over, Kalenda," she said. "A starship, a hoard of latinum, illegal weapons. You have behaved worse than a Ferengi. Oh, I know you've been the victim of a heist, and I now believe you when you say that the crew of the Phoenix are behind it."

Kalenda's shaggy head jerked upward to look Tella Yavin in the face. "You believe me?" she asked in confusion. "Then why did you allow Kajek to - "

"To make a point, from me to you," said Tella Yavin, leaning forward again. "I am the mistress of Limbo. I and no other. I hold the lives of everyone aboard this space station in my hands. You will render unto me what is mine from now on, yes?"

Kalenda nodded curtly. "Yes, mistress."

"Good. There is something else you can do for me," said Tella Yavin. She spoke nonchalantly, but her eyes were hard as durasteel. "A service you can undertake, and all will be forgiven. Your premises will be returned returned, a modest loan will be issued to cover the cost of restocking your business, and you will receive added protection from the Black Stars. How does that sound?"

Kalenda perked up. "What must I do?"

"Nothing too difficult," said Tella Yavin. "Kill someone for me."

"Give me the name and they will not see the morning."

Tella Yavin smiled. "A winning attitude. You'll need it in the Pit later."

"The Pit?" frowned Kalenda.

"You must have seen the advertising campaign," remarked Tella Yavin. "Daheel has outdone himself. He has the war criminal known as the Butcher of Barbossa fighting in the Pit tonight. I want you to fight her, and kill her."

"The Butcher of - "

"Words mean nothing," snapped Tella Yavin, "and the Butcher's name is made up of only words. I warned Captain Kane not to bring his conflict to Limbo, yet it appears his crew has been meddling in both your affairs and in the affairs of our mutual friend, Harad-Sar. I will not tolerate this. This so-called Butcher is merely a Human woman who is part of the Phoenix's crew. She is no match for a Klingon's mettle. You will fight her in the Pit tonight. You will kill her. Then you will be rewarded. Yes?"

Kalenda rose to her feet, a new fire burning in her eyes. "Yes, mistress."

*********************************************

Location: IRV Akhmogai ("War Hawk")
Scene: CO's ready room


In the gloom of her quarters, her aquiline features eerily underlit by the glow from her desktop monitor, Admiral Delora Radaik waited for a response. The subspace link to Romulus was being hampered by many different things - the distance, the encryption coding, and the eternal frustration of speaking to a bureaucrat - but Commander Storean was the Praetor's direct representative and had requested to be kept informed. The screen was being hacked apart by fuzzed lines that looked like spider legs, but she could see Storean's brow furrowing as he processed her message.

{{I had assumed you were contacting me to report that your mission had been accomplished, Admiral,}} he said pointedly. {{Yet your report mentions nothing of the capture of Rawyvin Seth.}}

Admiral Radaik kept her composure, but inwardly she was raging at having to explain herself to a military politician. "The political situation is delicate, Commander Storean. The various factions on Limbo are pushing against each other and Tella Yavin was not pleased to see the Empire's flag on her shore. The Phoenix has not taken any offensive action toward us, but we believe that they are becoming involved in local politics. As yet, we have been unable to ascertain why. And as regards our primary mission - finding one Terran amongst the multitudes on Limbo was always going to take time."

{{Perhaps a change of direction is needed,}} mused Storean. {{Make contact with Tella Yavin again, alone this time. Inform her that the Empire is willing to forgive her past indiscretions if she assists us in our hunt for Rawyvin Seth, and expels the Phoenix from her space station. Tell her that we are considering annexing the Hammaker system, and in the aftermath, the Empire would need a strong governor to administrate it. We need an ally, and Tella Yavin could be it once again.}}

Admiral Radaik paused to consider that. Tella Yavin's past was murky, but the Imperial rumour mill pointed to some dreadful event that occurred two decades ago when Tella Yavin was a Sub-Commander on a D'deridex Warbird. Whatever happened, it was serious enough that Tella Yavin fled Imperial space, forsaking her family, her people and her career forever. When she turned up leading the Black Stars in their takeover of Limbo, it had been surprising to say the least. "I am unsure if Tella Yavin would respond well to an offer like that," she said. "As the Terrans say, it is better to rule in hell than serve in heaven."

{{The inane philosophies of a half-wit people are of no interest to the Praetor,}} said Storean. {{You have your orders, Admiral Radaik. When you next report to this office, I expect that it will be with news of Rawyvin Seth's capture and Limbo's annexation. Storean out.}}

The screen went black, plunging the room into darkness. Admiral Radaik hesitated for only a moment before opening a communications channel to Tella Yavin's Sanctum.

*************************************************

Location: Limbo
Scene: The Sanctum


It had been a day of audiences, and now Tella Yavin was listening to Harad-Sar's tale of woe while poring over the details on the Orion's datapad. Harad-Sar's story was certainly an unexpected one, but Tella Yavin made sure to keep her expression neutral.

"So you see, mistress," finished Harad-Sar, "the backup program that hacked my databanks clearly originated aboard the Phoenix. Furthermore, it appears that they are gathering information on your strengths and weaknesses. All correspondence between us was taken, as well as any notes I had made on the Black Stars."

"Why would you be keeping notes?" murmured Tella Yavin, as her eyes ran like water over the datapad's screen.

The Orion blanched nervously. "For my records! All totally inconsequential, mistress, I assure you." Thinking quickly, he decided to play his trump card. "But that it not the main reason I came to see you today."

"It's not?" Tella Yavin put the pad down, trying to think. Captain Kane and his crew had basically declared war on Limbo, she realised. It was a good thing that she had sent Kalenda the Black to spill the first blood. "What could be more important than telling me that all your sensitive information on me, the Black Stars, and this entire space station's security systems has been stolen by a bunch of Terrans with obviously more skill with computers than any Orion?"

Harad-Sar licked suddenly dry lips. "The next Shadow Market will be tonight, mistress."

"I know that." Tella Yavin turned to the enormous Nausicaan at her shoulder. "Kajek, throw him out. Blind him in one eye for his failure to protect his own databanks."

"Wait!" shrieked Harad-Sar, throwing up his green arms as Kajek advanced on him, flexing his long-nailed fingers. "I know where the Shadow Market will be, mistress! And I know who the Shadow Master is!"

"Oh?" said Tella Yavin. "And how do you know?"

"The Shadow Master himself contacted me about the Market!" gasped Harad-Sar desperately, cringing as Kajek loomed over him like an extinction-level asteroid. "Yesterday! Anonymously! He told me tonight's location, I swear!"

"And his identity?"

"The services of spies, a Terran and a Romulan! They told me the Shadow Master's name - it is a Terran named Rawyvin Seth! He will be hosting the Shadow Market tonight!"

"Rawyvin Seth?" snapped Tella Yavin. "Tell me where!"

"The Pit!" wailed Harad-Sar as Kajek's meaty hand clamped down on his shoulder. "The Pit, I swear it!"

Kajek looked at Tella Yavin. She gave it another moment, then nodded. "Get out of here, Harad-Sar," she said harshly. "Your part in this game is over. Come tomorrow morning, you will know why I rule here."

The Orion scrambled up from his seat and scraped his way out the door. Tella Yavin stood slowly to her feet as Kajek looked at her in askance. "The Phoenix. First they seize Kalenda's latinum to fund regime change. Then they gather intelligence by raiding the Orion databanks."

"Believe you Harad-Sar about Seth Rawyvin?" rumbled Kajek.

"All the major players on Limbo know I want the Shadow Market shut down, but their greed must also be sated," said Tella Yavin. "It makes sense that they would all participate in the various Shadow Markets while at the same time trying to learn the Shadow Master's identity. We have to take Harad-Sar at his word. The Shadow market is tonight in the Pit. We have to break it up."

The Nausicaan nodded.

"Muster as many Black Stars as you think it will take," said Tella Yavin. "Everyone is talking about the pit fight tonight. At its climax, invade the Pit and kill everyone you can. Nobody gets out alive, understood? I want blood, Kajek.I want a massacre."

“Daheel fight us,” stated Kajek.

“I know that,” said Tella Yavin. “He's probably in league with the Phoenix. It’s time to settle accounts. Kill him, kill Harad-Sar, kill anyone you find at the Shadow Market, be they Romulan or Terran.”

“And Shadow Master?”

“Kill him too. It’s them or us.” Tella Yavin deactivated the datapad. “We’re going to war, Kajek.”

The Nausicaan nodded his shaggy head, his bucket mouth opening in his species’ approximation of a smile. “War,” he growled approvingly.

******************************************

Location: Limbo
Stardate: [2.15]0402.0035
Scene: The Atria


Michael Turlogh Kane and Drake shoved their way through Limbo’s throngs. The colours, shapes, sizes and guttural tongues of the myriad alien races on the space station made for a dizzying kaleidoscope. There was a whole simmering underbelly to the station - a million lives, a million stories - that played out around here every day, from the economy to law and order to the simple struggle to stay alive.

“I know you’re a clone,” said Kane suddenly.

Drake froze in his tracks, and Kane stopped with him. The river of people around them immediately began to divert, like a stream flowing around a rock. “How?” asked Drake.

“Doctor Foster and his superior medical intellect,” said Kane. “Something about the age of your brain's progenitor cells.”

“You had no right!” snapped Drake.

“The hell I didn’t!” Kane shot back. “You haven’t exactly been straight with us either, Drake, have you?”

“I told you, Captain, temporal causality - ”

“Oh, spare me the secrecy semantics!” said Kane, sticking a finger in Drake's face. "You've already blabbed twenty years of future history at us! You've already told me that I'm going to die somewhere in this goddamn station! What else is there to hide, Drake? Tell me how, tell me when! Give me an edge!"

"The only edge you get is the blade of a dagger in your throat!" snapped Drake, shoving Kane's hand away from his face. "I have a job to do here, Captain Kane! I'm under orders! I'm sorry you have to die here, truly I am, but the fact remains! I can't change it, neither can you! It's a fixed point in time! Temporal causality!" He heavily emphasised the last two words.

Kane was frowning. "Orders? Whose orders?"

Drake shook his head in frustration. "Just shut up, Captain, alright?"

"Who the hell are you working for, Drake?" Kane roared. Several nearby aliens gave their pair a wide berth as the argument escalated. "So help me, if you're manipulating us, I'll turn away from the Romulans and make a war on you!"

Drake sighed. "I suppose it doesn't make a difference," he said after a moment. "You know I'm a clone. Well, good for you. You're still a walking dead man."

"Consider it a secret that I'll take to the grave!"

Drake fixed Kane with an even glare. "There are eight of me. There used to be nine, but one died. I'm number six."

Kane frowned in confusion. "So what?"

"The one with the information about the future isn't me. He came back with the future Pendragon, summoned us all together, and briefed us on what needed to be done to preserve the timeline." Drake shrugged. "Like I said, orders."

The pieces fell into place in Kane's head. "So, you personally did not see my death here?"

"Not me personally," admitted Drake. "The future clone did. It's the same thing."

"Like hell it is," said Kane. "You don't know any more about what's going on around here than I do." He gave vent to a laugh so hard he could have driven nails with it. "That's why you have no memory of the Romulans attacking the Neutral Zone! That's why you can't explain how Edgerton has seized power nineteen years early. Your future-clone didn't tell you!"

Drake looked like he had a mouth of bitterest gall. "Very perceptive, Captain Kane."

Kane stopped laughing. He looked around, at the sea of alien people, at the enormous spiral of the Atria, at the wonder of Limbo hanging in the long night. "Atropos's shears waiting to cut," he murmured.

"Captain?"

Kane shook his head. "Let's go on to the Pit, Mister Drake. One way or the other, I have a feeling we'll both be meeting our destinies this evening."

**************************************************

Location: USS PHOENIX
Scene: Science Centre


Solomon Arn had called Thomas Varn back as he made the call to the bridge, but Captain's Kane's sudden termination of the conversation had left him puzzled. He and Thomas stood there somewhat impotently.

"Something must be going on," said Thomas.

"Evidently," nodded Solomon. "But we must deliver the fruits of our labour to the Captain as soon as possible." He held up the device they had created - a heavily modified TR-590 medical tricorder - and switched it on again. The high-resolution scanner immediately activated, beginning a sweep of the immediate area, seeking out a bio-signature that bore the hallmarks of both Vulcan and Betazoid. After a moment, red letters appeared on the screen, indicating no results found. "After all, our new toy works as well as can be expected."

"Where is the Captain?" asked Thomas. "We should approach him ourselves."

Solomon nodded. "I agree. This device is too important." For the second time this hour, he called "Science Centre to bridge."

[[Bridge. Byte here.]]

"This is Lieutenant Arn," said Solomon as Thomas looked on. "Mister Byte, it is imperative that I speak with Captain Kane as soon as possible."

[[That will be difficult, Lieutenant. Captain Kane and Commander Drake left the ship seventeen minutes ago.]]

"Left the ship?" asked Solomon, sharing a glance with Thomas. "Where has he gone?"

[[To Limbo,]] responded Byte. [[Their destination is the Pit, where they will attempt to make contact with Major Thytos and Commander Jos. I will attempt to contact him for you - ]]

"Not necessary," said Solomon. "I'm leaving the ship immediately, Mister Byte. We have completed our work on our bio-scanner and it needs to be in the Captain's hands as quickly as possible."

[[Understood, Mister Arn. Bridge out.]]

"Should we try to beam the scanner to him?" asked Thomas.

"Too dangerous," said Solomon, tying a utility belt around his waist. He opened a pouch and carefully put the scanner inside it. "The transporter would have a hard time separating the Captain's signature from the thousands of people near him. No, we'll need to make this delivery ourselves, Mister Varn."

"Ourselves?" Thomas held up his hands. "Now, look - "

"I have no time to wait for Doctor Foster, and two heads are better than one," said Solomon, closing up the belt's pouch. "I'm sorry for putting you on the spot like this, but will you accompany me, Mister Varn?"

Thomas took a moment before nodding. "Yes, I will. Do you want to talk to Dido before you go?"

"We'll be back shortly," said Solomon. He reached for a phaser to attach to his belt.

"We'll not likely need that," said Thomas.

"I suppose not." Solomon put the phaser down. "Let's go, Mister Varn."

Purposefully, they moved to their duty.

**********************************************

Location: IRV Akhmogai ("War Hawk")
Scene: CO's ready room


It took some time, but eventually Tella Yavin responded to Admiral Radaik's communique. The mistress of Limbo appeared somewhat dismissive, like she had other things on her mind, but Admiral Radaik was determined not to fail. "Tella Yavin," she said, "thank you for hearing me."

{{Make this quick, Admiral,}} came the reply. {{I am a busy woman.}}

Admiral Radaik inclined her head. "Of course. The Romulan Star Empire wishes to make you an offer, mistress of Limbo."

{{Oh? What sort of offer?}}

"I have this day been in contact with the Praetor's office. What I say comes from there. The Empire is prepared to forgive your past transgressions and welcome you back amongst your people. We propose to annex the Hammaker star system, and Limbo along with it. You would be named Pro-Consul governor of Limbo and all its people in perpetuity." Admiral Radaik watched Tella Yavin's ebony face for some flicker of interest, but there was nothing.

{{I see. And in return?}}

"You will expel the Phoenix from Limbo, and devote all your resources towards capturing the criminal Rawyvin Seth."

{{That is all?}}

"That is all."

There was silence for a moment, and Admiral Radaik wondered what Tella Yavin might be thinking. It was hard to figure the woman out. Then slowly, and with triumphal certainty, a thin smile crinkled at the corner of Tella Yavin's lips. Admiral Radaik's insides turned to ice.

{{It turns out we have similar goals, Admiral Radaik,}} said Tella Yavin. {{My Black Stars are already preparing to apprehend Rawyvin Seth this very evening and take action against the crew of the Phoenix. I invite your away teams to join the Black Stars in our efforts. Perhaps some co-operation would make me view your offer in a more favourable light?"}}

Admiral Radaik swallowed hard, knowing she was being outplayed. "Of course. My officer on the ground is Commander Merak. I will tell him to rendevous with your people at a location you nominate."

{{The Pit. This evening, during the fight. Have him report to me personally.}}

"You are overseeing the operation?"

Tella Yavin nodded curtly. {{Tonight I settle accounts, Admiral Radaik. Tomorrow morning, Limbo will be a very different place. Best to join me, yes?}}

She cut the connection without waiting for an answer. Admiral Delora Radaik sighed with resignation and prepare to make the call to Commander Merak.

**********************************************

Location: Limbo
Scene: Near the Phoenix's docking bay


Amid the crowds of aliens that seemed to swirl around like smoke from a permanent fire, Rawyvin Seth watched the docking bay door open and close. Two male - a Trill Starfleet officer with a utility belt, and a Human wearing a long overcoat - stepped out, took a moment to check their bearings, then made off towards the Atria.

The Trill was Solomon Arn, no doubt about it. So, his mysterious information broker was speaking the truth. There was now no reason to doubt his unknown benefactor - Solomon Arn was carrying something that would make Rawyvin's search for Selyara a thousand times easier.

Evangeline Montoya sidled up to Rawyvin's side. She knew better than to speak, and divided her gaze between her boss's eyeline and his quarry as they moved through the throng.

"You recognise them?" asked Rawyvin.

"The one with the overcoat is Thomas Varn," said Montoya. "We served on Gateway together. He's a mutant. He has a pair of wings under that overcoat, and augmented physical strength. Be wary of him."

Rawyvin ran his tongue over his canine teeth. "And the other? The Trill?"

"I've never seen him before."

Rawyvin turned to Montoya. "We'll move quickly. Seeing as you know this Varn person, I want you to distract him somehow. Separate them in the crowd."

Montoya nodded. "Alright. What are you going to do to the Trill?"

Rawyvin smiled a smile of blades in an alley. "I'm going to relieve him of his burden, my dear. Get moving."

He watched as Montoya moved quickly through the crowd. Reaching inside his jacket, his ran his thumb along the blade of his knife. It was razor sharp, honed for hours on end. When he drew his thumb back out, a red line of blood glistened on it.

Rawyvin Seth put his thumb in his mouth and sucked on it, wondering what colour Trill blood was.

*************************************************

Scene: The Atria


Solomon and Thomas squeezed their way through the crowd, keeping an eye out for signposts to direct them towards the Pit. Aliens of various species occasionally accosted them, trying to sell them trinkets or something warm to eat, but Solomon and Thomas pushed onward.

Ahead, a commotion had drawn a crowd and blocked further progress. A Black Stars hoverpod was hanging in the air above the crowd, its lights flashing, while the three Black Stars it carried were in the process of subduing a furious Chalnoth with lancing purple stun beams from their blasters. Nearby lay a dead Tellarite, one of his arms torn right out of the socket and a pool of heavy blood spreading over the deck plating. Thomas looked around the for arm, and caught a glimpse of a small alien wrapping it in a cloth and sneaking out of the crowd with the limb, licking its lips with hungry anticipation.

The crowd jostled and bustled as they came up on the scene. The Chalnoth threw its head back and bellowed in rage - the Black Stars clubbed it down with the butts of their disruptors. The crowd of watching aliens cheered at the sudden violence.

"Hey, wingman," came a woman's voice to Thomas's left. He turned his head and gasped when he saw Evangeline Montoya looking back at him.

"Sedna!" he breathed in amazement. The seven years since he had last seen her melted away. She looked the same - older, her eyes more sunken, but it was a face he remembered clearly. As the shock subsided, the confusion remained. "How are you here?" he said.

Montoya backed away through the crowd. Some alien jostled Thomas from behind. He glanced behind him to where Solomon was watching the unfolding scene, then turned back to Montoya. "Come back!" he called to her.

In reply, she held out her hand to him. Thomas reached forward to grasp it, buffeted by the crowd, but at the last moment Montoya pulled her hand away. Thomas frowned in confusion as she backed farther away into the crowd, which was now starting to bleed out into rivulets and streams around the murder scene ahead.

Montoya mouthed something at him through the throng. "What?" called Thomas. He looked around for Solomon but there were thousands of people around him, and he could no longer see the Trill. "Sedna! I can't hear you!" One of the Black Stars incinerated the Tellarite's corpse with his blaster rifle while the other two hustled the Chalnoth aboard the hoverpod. The crowd started to push forward.

Sudden, cold fear seized Thomas. Montoya had mouthed "I'm sorry" at him. Growing frantic, he looked around for Solomon but there was no sign of him. Montoya disappeared too - her saw the back of her sink like a stone into the oncoming tide of people - and Thomas began to push back to where he thought he had left the Trill. "Lieutenant Arn!" he shouted over the hubbub of the crowd. "Can you hear me?"

In the distance, he saw a familiar flash of blue. It was the band of colour across the top of Solomon's black jumpsuit. The Trill was disappearing down a small side-street, one hand glued to the belt pouch that contained the scanner. Solomon looked afraid - he was desperately tapping his communicator with his free hand - but he was quickly swallowed up by the darkness of the side-street.

The crowd began to move inexorably forward, tidal in its going, and the current picked Thomas up. He pushed against the slew of people, keeping his eye on the side-street, but then caught his breath in fearful surprise.

A man emerged from the crowd and made to move into the side-street that Solomon had disappeared down. Six feet tall and dressed in an immaculate black jumpsuit, he had shoulder-length dark hair. The shadows clung to him like children at their mother's skirt. Slowly, but with singular purpose, the man moved into the alley behind Solomon.

A long-thin bladed knife dangled from the man's right hand. It glinted in the neon street kaleidoscope, shining with promise.

All Thomas's shouts were lost in the hubbub. He could do nothing except pray and move slowly, painfully slowly, towards the black opening into the alley.

****************************************

Scene: A side alley somewhere in the Atria


Solomon Arn cursed inwardly as his communicator delivered another burst of static at him. Separated from Thomas Varn and now alone in a seedy alley somewhere off the Atria, his fear was rising. He desperately wished he had brought along that phaser. Animals that looked like rats congregated in groups and ran across his path as he stumbled onward. There were no doors, no windows, just the giant plasteel sides of buildings, tenement apartments for the multitudinous throng of Limbo.

The alley stopped at a dead end. Solomon stopped and turned around, but the way back was barred by man with a knife in his hand.

"Who are you? What do you want with me?" asked Solomon, eyes flitting from the man's face to the blade.

The man stepped forward. "My name is Rawyvin Seth, and I am the last acquaintance you will ever make. I want whatever you're carrying in your belt pouch, Solomon Arn," he said coldly.

"You can have it," said Solomon, tearing open the pouch. "Please, there's no need for violence."

The man smiled at him, revealing sharp canines. It was the sympathy of a victor. "I know that there is no need for violence," he said. "I'm going to kill you because I enjoy it."

Solomon struggled to understand what was was going on. Is this really happening, he wondered. He reached down into himself, seeking some connection to an event like this in Arn's long life. "Don't kill me," he said, not really comprehending. "Please."

The man held up his knife like it was a holy thing, pointing it at Solomon with a murderous imperative. Quickly, he made a series of fake stabs around his body - under the ribs, inside the thigh, under the arm. He narrated what he was doing. "This, and this, and this - they are all death blows." He drew the flat of the blade across his own throat. "And so is this. The artery is cut, the blood pressure drops, and you bleed to death. You pass out it quickly, but you still feel the cut. You're still aware of what is happening as you lie dying." He stepped forward.

"Wait!" shouted Solomon in fear. He held up his hands, but the man kept advancing on him like a spider. "Don't kill me, don't kill me, please don't - " His heart was thumping in his chest, and from somewhere deep within him he felt Arn lurch as the panic suffused through his body. He pulled off the utility belt and tried to use it as a club, but the man swept it aside.

The blade of the knife went in under Solomon's ribs, scraping bone and carving through meat. He looked down and saw it go in, looked up and saw the man smiling at him, and felt an awful weakness in his legs that made him want to fall down.

The man put his other arm around Solomon, holding him up face to face. "Look at me," the man whispered. "Look at me, Mister Arn. I want to see the light in your eyes go out."

Solomon's legs went from underneath him, and he sagged against the man, against his murderer, against the knife that had punctured his vital organs. He fell down onto the stinking deck-plating, and the blade of the knife came out smoothly, like it had been cutting butter. Blood began to pool around the wound it had made.

There was a buzzing in Solomon's ears, and his vision was blurring. He thought of Dido, of his mother and father. His consciousness felt like it was turning inward, and there, waiting to bid him goodbye, was Arn. Solomon felt a terrible sadness well up from inside him. No more colours, no more laughing. No more loving, no more being loved. Memories fizzed and popped in his mind's eye, nine lifetimes of memories and sensations all melding and flowing together. Elation and sorrow were the same thing, in the end, both part of the same circle.

I'm dying, Arn. We're dying. I can't feel anything anymore but I know it's happening. Don't worry about it. I'm so sorry. I need more time, I have to get back to Dido. I need more time. Don't worry about it. I knew I was going to be your last host, I knew you were ancient, I knew I was going to die young being your host, but even now, here, I wouldn't give it up.

Don't worry about it.

********************************************

Scene: The alley


Rawyvin Seth leaned down and placed the edge of the knife's blade against Solomon's throat. He drew the blade back and forth across the skin in a sawing motion, opening Solomon's neck to the bone, and held back the Trill's head to widen the cut so that he emptied quickly.

The light went out in Solomon's eyes. His face was deathly pale as his blood pooled around his head like a thought bubble, his final words written invisibly in red. His arm came up to touch his carved-open throat - the body subconsciously trying to stem the river - and his mouth was opening and closing like a fish out of water. He lay still, arm half-up in a useless defensive gesture.

Rawyvin Seth reached down, picked up the utility belt and activated the scanner within. A little rainbow bloomed on the control panel, and the machine chimed into action, beginning a search for a very specific bio-signature.

Rawyin looked down and realised there was blood on his boots. He sighed, and wiped the sole on the dead Trill's chest just as the scanner started beeping urgently. Looking at the screen, Rawyvin smiled to see MATCH FOUND blinking at him.

The Pit. Selyara was in the Pit. The place where the big fight tonight was. Rawyvin chuckled to himself, then reached for his communicator to contact Montoya.

By the time anyone found the Trill's cooling corpse, Rawyvin Seth would be long gone.

********************************************
********************************************

NRPG: Solomon Arn is dead, and Rawyvin Seth has the scanner. Everything and everyone is converging on the Pit for the climax of this story. A final Limbo Plot Threads follows this post.


Jerome McKee
the Soul of Captain Michael Turlogh Kane
Commanding Officer
USS PHOENIX


"He speaks an infinite deal of nothing!"
- Shakespeare's "The Merchant of Venice", Act 1, Scene 1.117

In Greek mythology, Atropos was the oldest of the Three Fates, and was known as the "inflexible" or "inevitable." It was Atropos who chose the mechanism of death and ended the life of each mortal by cutting their thread with her shears. She worked along with her two sisters, Clotho, who spun the thread of life, and Lachesis, who measured the length.

**********************************************
**********************************************