Hedonism in servitude

Posted on 09 Nov 2015 @ 12:24am by Oren Idris & Alax Elren

1,703 words; about a 9 minute read

Mission: Episode 09 - Empires
Location: Mirror Universe - Starbase 897, Beta Quadrant
Timeline: MD5 - 2300hrs

[ ON ]

There was a fiery passion in Alax’s voice as he leaned across the bar and starred his fellow Betazoid directly in the eyes. He had to shout to make himself heard over the Cardassian music being pumped into the lounge - it had a strong enough bassline to rattle your teeth - but he was accustomed to shouting from the pulpit. For such a small man, he could project a terrifyingly powerful voice when channeling his passion.

“You are little more than a lover of worldly desire! I see it in your eyes... You bend the knee before your own vain imaginings and call it truth. You turn your eyes toward the thorn and name it a flower. Not a pure breath have you ever breathed!" Alax hissed. "You have cast to the winds the loving counsels of the Great Fire, utterly effacing them from the tablet of your heart. Your entire being is desire and passion, like the beasts of the field!”

The bartender looked completely nonplussed. “Look, you want a drink or not?”

“O Great Fire, daystar of the heavens, let not the defilement of the world eclipse Thy splendor,” Alax murmured, closing his eyes and reaching up to touch the depictions of the Lady on his collar. The two Cardassian guards with him shifted on their feet, looking uncomfortable from more than just the environment. “Strengthen me to treasure the companionship of the righteous and eschew all fellowship with the ungodly.”

"You called?"

Suddenly, Alax felt a familiar presence behind him, soon followed by the feeling of hands grasping his shoulders. His personal space thoroughly invaded, the voice in his ear did nothing to mitigate his anxiety.

Alax stiffened immediately and inhaled sharply through his nostrils, the outward reflection of his inner efforts to steel himself against the pervasive wickedness that was now lingering at his shoulder. If the Great Fire was feeling merciful then it would sweep down upon that filthy little lounge and cleanse it of defilement. The Betazoid even waited a few moments to respond to Oren, as if the Great Fire might actually be feeling that merciful; when no purifying flames came, he curled his lip in disgust and turned.

As Alax whipped around to face his assailant, he was met with the sight of Oren Idris, his Watcher's bodyguard. To his neverending frustration, her appearance was as sensuous as always and her usual impudent smirk was in its usual place, making her rose lips curl in a way that made her look like she knew more than she let on.

"I suppose you feel absolutely alive in a place like this, with all the filth practically seeping into your pores," Alax said, moving his dark eyes away from her to look around. "There isn't enough water in the universe to wash all this off..."

"That's why they serve alcohol here," Oren remarked casually, pushing one of the Cardassian guards aside. Ignoring the dirty look he gave her, she leaned back against the bar, her black jacket hanging loosely over her shoulders.

"Speaking of," she added, glancing at the bartender. "I'll have a Culture Shock." Her order set, she turned back to Elren. "Besides, what with you being a Fire lover, isn't water like, I don't know, your devil or something?"

Alax kept his eyes averted from Oren given her perpetual state of undress. Not that the rest of the lounge was any different - it was filled with patrons from a dozen different species within the Klingon-Cardassian Alliance and virtually every one of them had an absolutely salacious amount of their body exposed to the open air. As if their preoccupation with alcohol and disgusting mating rituals carried out on the dance floor weren't enough, they seemed to need to do it without enough clothes on.

"It figures that you would be most acquainted with the satanic side of a religion," Alax snapped. He glanced at her from the corner of his eye and wrinkled his nose. "Must you consume alcohol while on duty? It's unprofessional. And while I don't doubt that's how you prefer to operate, you're meant to be protecting me." He let out a little puff of air through his lips. "Being inebriated hardly seems conducive to that."

"Trust me, when it comes to making a decision about whether to let you die in this cesspit or not, you don't want me to have sound judgment," Oren pointed out, taking the drink from the bar. She held it up to him, "So, cheers!" With that she downed the mix of vodka, kanar, romulan ale and blood wine in one swallow before slamming the shot glass down to the bar again. A full body shudder rippled through her as the alcohol burned her from the inside.

Alax observed her silently. The hedonism that was self-evident on her face was appalling, though Oren seemed to revel in it. He noted that her body railed against the alcohol that she used to poison herself, shuddering like a victim in the grip of Denebian fever. But she paid it no heed; instead, she seemed to welcome it. What manner of person could be so willfully self-destructive and unconcerned with the damage they wrought upon their soul?

"Now," Oren announced, holding out a small paDD. She looked at the Cardassians as she tapped at it. "Gentlemen, your services have been paid for and I will take over from here."

Looking relieved, the pair muttered something that sounded like 'Good luck, lady' and left. Oren looked back at Elren. "I got us transportation."

"What manner of vessel?" Alax said, narrowing his eyes suspiciously.

"One with a captain that doesn't ask too many question. Besides, she owes me a favour and her ship is perfect for moving us through the few light years of TE space we need to pass through," Oren explained, motioning for the bartender to bring her another drink.

"It's a small ship, a Wallace class."

"Excuse me?" Alax said. "A Wallace-class ship? Are you trying to get us killed?" Suddenly, he sat upright, shook his head, and huffed. "Absolutely not. I'm not being transported by a bunch of slavers."

"You wanna say that a little louder, I don't think the guy across the street heard you." Oren glanced around, relieved to see that no one's attention in the bar was lingering on them. She turned back to Elren. "Listen to me, if you want to make it to the Regent with your skin intact, we have to pass through the Nimbus system and last I heard, the place was crawling with Humans." Wincing inwardly at the term she used, ill advised among her own countrymen, Oren chose to move on quickly, before the patriarch could comment. "The only way to pass through is on this ship, and the Captain owes me a favour."

"Don't worry, I'll keep you safe." As she said the last, Oren looked at him, her face uncharacteristically earnest.

Alax had no idea where the Nimbus system was, much less that it was crawling with those warmongers, but he nodded with understanding to cover his ignorance. "Very well. If we must travel to Her Imperial Majesty upon a Terran garbage scow then so be it." At the mention of his safety, he cut his eyes to look at her from his peripheral vision. Her outfit was designed to draw the eye downward, which he found distasteful enough to look away again. "I should hope you'll keep me safe. I'm a critical component of the Alliance. We all have our part to play."

"Well..." Oren said, giving the boy an appraising look. "You should rein in some of that preaching in places like this. Or you might end up as a critical component in an overpass on the promenade somewhere," she warned. After all, if he insisted on running his mouth to everyone he thought of as a plebeian (which, from what she'd gathered in the last few month, was everyone and their brother), there was only so much Oren could do to prevent him being dragged off and shipped to meet his maker. Somehow, despite his faith, she doubted he would want that to happen anytime soon.

Alax frowned but didn't immediately respond; she was the security expert, so it seemed best to listen to her opinion, no matter how ridiculous it was. Clearly the people on this filthy station needed to hear the Gospel... Just, perhaps, from someone else. He made a mental note to contact the director of the Office of Propagation and Teaching back at the Most Holy Temple of the Great Fire to instruct him to send a few of those enormous brutish looking missionaries they'd recruited from the southern continent.

"Very well then," the Betazoid said, shifting uncomfortably on the seat. The seat was far too provincial for his tastes and seemed like it was designed by a hard-nosed Klingon; the sooner he was seated somewhere more comfortable, the better. "I suppose this ship of yours doesn't follow conventional arrivals and departures, so when are we leaving? The darkest hour of the night, our movements hidden by deviants and whatever else stalks the corridors at oh-three-hundred?"

"Oh-four-hundred," Oren corrected, watching him move around. It was a miracle they hadn't been kicked out yet, considering how much the patriarch stuck out in his outfit. "I'm staying with you until then. I'm not letting you out of my sight from this moment forward."

"Very well," Alax said, easing off the uncomfortable seat. "I will be visiting the station chapel to light a votive and pray for our journey." He cut his eyes to look at Oren and gave her an amused smile. "Perhaps, we can pray together."

Watching Alax, Oren found he didn't look nearly as diabolical and arrogant as she thought him to be when he smiled like that. She returned it with a smirk.

"That's assuming I don't burst into flame walking through the door, right? " she asked, following him closely.

[ OFF ]

Alax Elren
Intendant of Betazed
Ecumenical Patriarch of the Church of Holy Fire
[ PNPC - Mott ]

Oren Idris
Bodyguard
Agent of the KCA
[PNPC - Idris ]

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