Tales of the Sienov

[Sadaann]

Comissioned even before the Romulan war, built for a more shadowy, and insidious empire. The I.R.W Sienov would proudly serve the Romulan Star Empire of the 21st and 22nd centuries. The ship seeing many hard-fought and arduous battles. With cautious planning, pristine guile, and superior tactic would allow for this relic of a ship to see service up into the 2420s. However, no matter how deceptive and treacherous a Romulan is, victory never lasts for long. The I.R.W Sienov would be valiantly seized by the fledgling Romulan Republic. Rechristened with the R.R.W prefix of the Republic. The R.R.W Sienov would pass through multiple hands: Commander Giellun s’Ethien, that stint with Centurion Rsha’tkch s’Shavanth, Commander General Raha s’Rejok; until eventually coming into command of the smug upstart son of the aforementioned Commander General, Commander Attila s’Rejok. Attila’s military career within the Republic would breathe promising success along the Star Imperial front. However, the Sienov and its crew would become disillusioned, as he and his crew watched their people become more and more like the Federation. From gallant fighters of oppression, to pencil-pushing with signs of an oncoming bureaucracy, slow to action. Attila s’Rejok, his crew sharing his sentiment, would move to abandon the Republic. Operating under his own banner, he and his crew would pursue whatever endeavor that had tickled their fancies. Of course, outsourcing his services to the highest paying bidder as well.

Despite the carefree and reckless nature of the Sienov crew, they would never miss an opportunity to cause mayhem for the Romulan Star Empire. Which is where we find ourselves now.

Along the border of the Argelius and Rator sectors...

STARDATE: 100391.3

“D’Deridex along our ambush vector, Attila.” the woman’s voice flared, a D’Deridex would gradually enlarge as the distance between the two ships closed.

“Don’t fret, Subcommander. We’re cloaked.” the man in the center seat quickly raising a fist to silence the bridge’s emerging laughter.

“Ye’ said that last time, Commander!” an officer would manage through stifled chuckles

“Well, this time we won’t need to be towed by Reyga- or any ship, of that matter. Prepare the plasma torpedo to fire once we’ve become visible.”

Those of the Sienov’s bridge would brace themselves. If the timing was off, the Sienov would be practically completely vulnerable as it recoups the energy loss.

“Unknown Romulan bird-of-prey decloaking, Sir. It’s neither Imperial or Republic.”
“What? What do you mean it’s neither Imperial or Republic?”
“Uh- Sir, it’s reading Klingon Defense-- I.K.S. Sie- Wait- it’s changed, C.U.V-- Cardassians? Again! U.S.S.–”
“Surge in power output coming from that ship, Commander!!.”

“ARE THEY INSANE?! SHIELDS UP!”

Laughter, cheers, and all around celebratory sounds could be heard across the Sienov’s bridge to Rejok’s mild annoyance. There being no real suspenseful silence between the charging and firing of the Sienov’s plasma torpedo and its direct hit to the D’Deridex.

Flying passed, the Sienov would return itself under its cloak, stalling, the crew of miscreants and mercenaries would circle the D’Deridex, preying on the much larger ship. It wouldn’t take long for the Sienov to place itself on its attack run once again. The crew having set aside all other operations, putting all attention and focus into the preparation and execution of this ambush.

The Sienov’s second plasma torpedo, at such close range would leave the shields of the D’Deridex offline. Rejok, the man in command of the mercenary crew with numbers somewhere in the 130s, would rise from the captain’s chair. Taking his jacket from the seat’s headrest.

“Let it be known, have our boarding parties ready. We take the bridge, then from there we compromise and disable the rest of the ship.”

In a single, swift and coordinated strike. The Sienov would have boarded the D’Deridex, gunning down, and or capturing those unfortunate to find themselves on the bridge. Locking themselves on said bridge. Among the boarding gear of each member of the boarding crew was a breathing mask, taking this, the Sienov proceeded to vent anesthetic gas throughout the D’Deridex.

“We’ll have to be quick, there’s no doubt a distress signal was sent.” a voice reminded. the crew now going through the process of detaining every single unconscious Romulan imperial aboard the D’Deridex.

“Line em’ up, we’ll start from the lower ranks. Give em’ a disruptor. Same rules as last time, if they can shoot their fellow Imperial, they can join up with us. If they can’t, well, llaihr. Let’s get to work, saevha.”

[Sadaann]

Happy Birthday to You..

"… and haaaappy birthday, dear Rooomalia. Haaappy–"

The collaborative singing interrupted by the very distinct voice of the ship’s First Officer, Pital.

"HAAAAaaaaAaaaaappy biiirr~~thday, toooo,"

The green haired woman extending her arms out to the supposed birthday girl. The crew in celebratory merriment despite the ongoing war with the Star Empire. Sienov sat cloaked within what was previously the Romulan /neutral/ zone, a small engineering team having been formed as to make sure this outfit of 137 mercenaries and other less than desirable individuals aren’t detected by any unwanted parties, especially on what is considered one of the most important days aboard the Sienov, right up there with Hobus Remembrance Day. Today’s special occasion being the 19th birthday of the captain’s daughter, Romalia s’Rejok. The auburn-brunette haired girl sat in the center chair, a chair only ever reserved for the captain himself and in substitution: the first officer. But today was Romalia’s day, and Atilla had every intention of making sure his little girl had a /perfect/ birthday.

"yoooouuuu."

Pital continued, closing the distance between herself and Romalia, like a heat seeking hug missile. It was rather evident Romalia’s discomfort, her flushed cheeks more a result of embarrassment than an appreciation for what her father had put together. After all, it was no secret Romalia’s distaste for constantly living amongst a bunch of hired guns, vagabonds, and criminals who think they’ve given the authorities the slip. If it were not for an unwilling site-to-site beam onto the bridge, Romalia would be where she was only a few hours ago, locked up in her room, enjoying whatever had caught her eye on the 𝕏ubspace. Atilla hadn’t been opposed to his daughter practically keeping herself confined to quarters, after all, he definitely didn’t want any of the ruffians of his crew putting their hands on Romalia. Especially since there were a number of upstarts around her age. Atilla having to push these thoughts from his mind, less he sour his mood and even more likely the mood of the party.

Atilla stood aside his daughter, a hand on the back rest of the captain’s chair. He gives a faint and exhausted smile to his child, she… reciprocating with an unenthusiastic and displeased glare. Romalia witnessing her father give her the standard ‘I tried’ expression, as if pleading for her approval. It was off-putting to say the least, she wasn’t child anymore. Gestures like these little gatherings, the cake, balloons, all so Earthy. Romalia thought to herself, she expresses a delight for Earth customs and all of a sudden birthdays since she was 16 always had included this irritating, almost rage inducing birthday song.

The only possible upside being getting the privilege to hear Pital’s angelic voice. She embracing her father’s long time friend, Pital, and possibly some of the science officers down on deck five being of the few people Romalia had enjoyed interacting with.
The only possible upside being getting the privilege to hear Pital’s angelic voice. She embracing her father’s long time friend, Pital, and possibly some of the science officers down on deck five being of the few people Romalia had enjoyed interacting with.

“Thaaank youu~~!”

She exclaimed, mainly at Pital, guising it as a general thanks to the entire crew. The crew proceeding to wind up the classic birthday question:

"Hhhoooow old are–"

Atilla using the hand to throat motion, signaling to the crew to stop singing. Picking up a glass, he’d tap along its side with a tiny piece of silverware.

“As you all know, it is my dear pænhe’s birthday. Romalia Te’elis-Dhael Hannam Sahe’lagge s’Rejok. You are /my/ galaxy, and Jol hwi arhem.”

These words of the Captain getting a collective ‘aww’ from the crew, before being silenced by Atilla’s grim, and subtly Intimidating expression. Said expression quickly vanishing once the bridge returned to loud chatter.

Romalia on the other hand was not impressed, only stifling a smirk so as to not show her father her enjoyment of making his speak a language that isn’t Rihan for once. At first the opportunity to learn simply never revealed itself, as the only people around to have taught her as a child were busy being guns for hire. Nowadays, she purposefully avoids the language in spite of her father.
Romalia was not an ungrateful daughter, she acknowledged the things her father does or tries to do for her, unfortunately for Atilla, she had learned of her half-brother, his treatment, and her father’s hypocrisy. Growing up, she viewed her father as a hero. A man fed up with the fact the Republic he once believed in had become something seemingly unrecognizable to him. When Romalia had figured out she was on a ship full of defectors, her conviction had been broken. Took weeks and multiple therapeutic sessions with Pital to get over it, she was 11. She hadn’t come to see Rejok as some unredeemable traitor, as she saw and understood the Sienov’s general mission, or what was /suppose/ to be its general mission. The mission in question self explanatory through the ship’s name, Sienov when translated to FSE(Federation Standard English) read as ‘sword’, as that was the original promise when the crew had first deserted, that they would be the unyielding sword for the Romulans who could not pick up their own. To be pointed at an opponent and to make sure they never see the opportunity in another tomorrow to hurt more Rihan souls. But now, sure Sienov indulges itself in little skirmishes against the Empire, but most times are spent drunkenly at warp, accepting credits, latinum, or whatever ship modification the job could pay for. It’s disgraceful.

Despite Romalia’s feelings on the Sienov and its wellbeing, she never expressed these concerns. Why would she? At 19 there’s truly no reason to care anymore. The childhood righteousness she had, vanished many years ago. After all, it would be difficult to maintain a childlike innocence when your father is a cold-blooded killer.

She had food, a comfortable place to lay her head, and clothes on her back, far better than some of those who had found their way onto the Sienov. At the very least her quality of life far exceeded a majority of those on Non-Federation worlds. Especially that trio from years back, a rather memorable trio from M’Talas. Vulcan, a Klingon, and an injured Ferengi.

Romalia let out a deep sigh, tempering her thoughts, returning her focus to the here and now. She deciding to take the path of least resistance and to simply enjoy the party, even if she has to fake it a little.

[Sadaann]

The Sienov Incident

CHALTOK SYSTEM

Stardate: 100472.2

Debriefing

08:46

“Here’s the operation. We’ll be picking off the left over Imperial ships, those both en route to surrender as well as the zealots. The Republic may be strong armed into accepting this folly of surrender, but we stand in a very unique and opportune position,” Atilla paused, “/I/ don’t accept this surrender. Pital, if you would?”

The green haired first officer of the Sienov would jolt up, “Huh??!” She clearly not paying a single ounce of attention to her CO. Quickly catching onto what was needed, she’d rush out of her seat. “Right!” A stack of PADDS finding their way into her petite hands. Miraculously, Pital able hand out PADDs without the stack falling. With the emptying of her hands, the first officer takes front.

“Not gonna lie, Team. We got lucky with the D’Deridex, but we’ve come to the conclusion launching multiple ambush runs for this operation would quickly lose effectiveness between Imperial communications and potential reinforcements, it’s not viable.”
As Pital explains, it’s quite noticeable that the crew is listening very attentively to their XO, a stark contrast to their CO.

“With the modifications we’ve made with the Elachi components we received for Romalia’s birthday, engineering reports a 34% increase in cloak efficiency. Science and engineering teams will be working around the clock, making sure not an ounce of the ship is detected. With house taken care of, our execution of this is dependent on three phases.”

Complete and utter silence throughout the ship as Pital gives the crew debriefing in-person as well as over the intercoms.

“Firstly, we’ll deploy a casket distress-probe with myself inside. Where I’ll be until transport onto the Imperial ship is successfully achieved. Either they lower shields and I’m beamed onto the ship, or a site-to-site beam is carried out from the probe’s personal transporter device once towed into their shuttle bay.”

“While the probe is being investigated, the Captain will lead a strike force through space-walk. You’ll make it to the exterior bridge module, pop it open like-- well-- anyway. This gives myself enough of a distraction to inject their shield subsystems with a virus that should leave the entire thing vulnerable for capture.”

“Our last phase is escape, there’s no doubt causing such a noise would draw the attention of other Imperial vessels, for this well… we wing it.” She giggles, “Then we pick up Romalia and her friends from their concert. Sound good?”

The crew nods, another brilliantly drafted plan from the XO.

“Lock in and ship out!” She’d simultaneously had signed off, dismissed as well as having given the crew their next orders with just those few words. After several decades operating Sienov as a mercenary, some things just become instinctual by this point. The crew immediately getting started with preparations, the whine of the cloaking device especially loud amongst the silence of Chaltok’s aftermath.

Phase I

09:53

//..ABOARD THE I.R.W. MARRUS

The bridge crew stood relieved, they had survived. Better yet, they were the few that got to go home. The ones who's families had the privilege of seeing them at least one more time. This war was hell, if only those treacherous insurgents, those who call themselves a Republic simply weren't so stubborn.

In the center seat, the Commander of the vessel. A woman of Romulan middle age, she sat laid back into the chair. The first time in days, weeks that she had time to simply relax.

10:27

Sienov worked expeditiously, the casket-probe practically having been pre-prepped. Pital had been placed into the probe's pod, the "casket", the probe shortly deployed. It's distress beacon having been tweaked, and calibrated to disguise the probe as an Imperial Malem class bird of prey on any prying sensors.

//..PITAL

This was no different than any other time, she thought to herself. Floating, alone, in the vastness of space, with the only thing separating you from Death by vacuum being what is essentially a supped up coffin. She sighed, all the first officer had to do was wait for the casket-probe's signal to be intercepted. She waited. To keep from insanity Pital recalled the songs of her childhood, humming the tunes her mother would serenade her younger self with. Staring into the abyss of space, humming.

10:51

Pital Thrippe was absolutely terrified, it hadn't taken long or much for her to eventually keep her eyes shut as she hummed. Surely Atilla-- or someone on Sienov would retrieve her if the bait wasn't taken.

11:16

Silence, Pital had become focused on tempering her breathing, oxygen levels were fine within the probe's pod. Pital was engaged in keeping her fear, her anxiety in check. She had grown to hate the tight fit of the pod, her disposition only growing worse with each entry into one.

11:45

. . .

12:32

//..ABOARD THE I.R.W. MARRUS

"Commander! We're receiving a distress signal, reading Malem class Warbird. Bearing: 310-mark-285.

12:38

The Woman would curse to herself under he breath, was it her duty to see through this rescue? Of course it was, for the Star Empire. "Set course, full impulse."

13:05

The I.R.W. Marrus had arrived, the Sienov's casket-probe in full view aboard the bridge.

//..PITAL

13:06

Pital's eyes would shoot open to the familiar wheezing of a decloaking warbird. "Thankfuckthankfuckthankfuck, finally." She let out a pent up sigh of relief, resting easy as she's no doubt scanned and inspected before being brought aboard.

“What the hell is that?”

quickly becoming question of the day aboard the Marrus’ bridge. “Reading a life sign within that probe.” A person? the Commander questioned in her mental. She got the picture, one of the more selfish Commander’s, the type who’d rather save themselves than perform noble sacrifice for one’s crew. The type of Commander that wreaks of treachery,

13:08

"Bring them aboard! Now! Engage tractor tow into the shuttle bay." She barked orders. Possibly too harshly, though after all it had been a long number of weeks. Stress had consumed the entire crew, several times over. The crew grateful to be alive despite the war, followed their CO's orders attentively. The casket-probe being guided into the shuttle bay.

13:15

//..STRIKE TEAM ATILLA

The six, clad in various EVA suits had been dropped from a cloaked Sienov's shuttle bay. A short period of guided maneuvering had taken place, multiple thuds as the EVAs would land, immediately activating their magnetized footing. The Strike Team would count heads, quick nods of confirmation before they began their space-walk down the Mogai's neck.

13:40

Several minutes of walking along the I.R.W. Marrus' hull had elapsed. Rishik Khev, Sienov's resident ex-diplomat, former aristocrat, silver-tongued negotiator had been assigned the task of managing the thermal detonators. Despite Rishik's protest, Atilla had stuck him with the heavy lifting. It wouldn't be long until the team reached the exterior bridge.

Phase II

14:10

A Marrus security detail had arrived in the shuttle bay, the probe sat idly. Cautiously the detail approached, disruptors unholstered, primed, and aimed at whoever may be inside. To their surprise, the pod was empty.

14:15

RED ALERT

Intruder Alert!

Pital had maneuvered her way through the corridors of the Mogai warbird, performing the balancing act of trying to reach Engineering whilst also evading being detected. “Dammit, now would be a really good time, Atilla.”

//..STRIKE TEAM ATILLA

14:12

The strike team had reached the Mogai warbird's bridge module. carefully retrieving the explosives from Rishik's EVA suit pack-attachment, the six began cautiously placing and arming the explosives right around where the viewscreen oughta be. Detaching themselves from the hull, the six would float off into a safe distance, waving as they'd be finally picked up by visual sensors, the strike team on full display on Marrus' viewscreen. The six looked as if they were cheering, laughing, taunting the crew of the I.R.W. Marrus, which only resulted in an even more growing confusion. Between whatever was happening on the exterior of the ship, and the intruder on the interior, the already exhausted crew were completely out of their depth.

//..ABOARD THE I.R.W. MARRUS

"We're being attac--!"

and as if on que:

14:21

Atilla had kept a keen eye out for whoever was likely the Commander of the vessel. Recognizing the woman as such, he’d maneuver the EVA’s personal thrusters over, grabbing the woman before safely bringing her onto the bridge through the new hole in the ship. Leaving the rest to die in the vacuum of space. With radio silence from Command, the general crew of the Marrus would fall into disarray then into gradual chaos.

14:35

Pital had expertly used the chaos generated by her Captain’s grandiose distraction, her Intelligence training in the War Academy had truly paid off. Arriving in engineering, to the look of perplexed, anxious, and irate Imperial engineers. Without a second thought, Pital had quick drew her disruptor pistol, gunning down each and every member of Marrus’ engineering personnel. Afterwards saw no contestation to Pital’s sabotage. Soon enough the shields of the I.R.W. Marrus’ would fall, permanently disabled through the works of Pital.

14:48

The Marrus, a Mogai Heavy Warbird that had dutifully served its Empire, saw its survival and the survival of its crew through numerous battles, earning itself prestige within the Imperial Star Navy had fallen to vagabond mercenaries, many such cases. Soon, Marrus had become overrun with Sienov assault teams. The sudden beam in catching security forces off guard, Marrus’ defensive personnel falling one after another. Those of Sienov taking the crew of the I.R.W. Marrus hostage. Atilla had personally gone through the process of forcing the various Imperial personnel into killing their comrade, or dying themselves. Those who crumble under the pressure finding themselves no where but Sienov itself to turn to, as they’d be court martialed and executed if they returned to the Empire after what they did.

Phase III

With the I.R.W. Marrus neutralized, and its crew unceremoniously murdered. Sienov had taken control of the vessel, forcing the access codes from the now former commander of the Marrus. Atilla having had her restrained in his office. Those of Sienov simply given the orders to:

“Send the thing into a convoy.”

18:42

After several hours of continous shifts working on the disabled I.R.W. Marrus, Tiheth, Sienov’s Chief Engineer, had devised a plan. Cross-wiring the Mogai’s navigation controls with its tactical, Tiheth and his team had rigged the ship to momentarily enter warp as a way to gain momentum. Intentionally disabling safeties, so as to allow the ship to rip itself from warp with its gained momentum still intact.

19:00

Marrus had become a ghost ship, corpses strewn about its halls. The bridge crew in close orbit of the ship, their bodies bloated and frozen from exposure to the unforgiving nothingness of space. All of Sienov had returned to their respective ship. Tiheth having silently assured Atilla with a thumbs up that the ship could be launched remotely.

19:05

Tiheth had once again proven themselves an ingenious engineer, and valued member of the Sienov. Marrus could be observed adjusting its own orientation, and spontaneously, without warning the Mogai Heavy Warbird erupting into warp out of the Chaltok system.

19:24

Sienov departs the Chaltok System.

Epilogue

Picking up Romalia

Pital Thrippe "And hooow was it?"

Romalia Rejok "I GOT TO SEE THEM LIVE, EEE!!"

The two remained in Romalia’s quarters, through giggling voices they discussed Romalia’s day out.

Riov, and the imperial Commander

Atilla Rejok "You awake yet, little Commander?"

Marrus' Former Commander "You're no better, Mercenary. Do you know what kind of vessel we were? Of course you don't. A medical transport, we had sick and inju--"

Atilla Rejok "I.R.W. Marrus, science vessel. I doubt your crew knew about your involvement around Beta Reticuli. Just following orders, amirite?"

Marrus' Former Commander "Like I said, you're still no better. There were young men and women aboard that ship, men and women with bright futures."

Atilla Rejok "And you bring them into a war? Always classy with the Star Empire. Eitherway, I'm not going to pretend like I care about the moral high ground. Blah blah oppression of the Romulan free state, blah blah blah acknowledge the Republi- No, you bastards killed my wife, deprived my sweet daughter of a beautiful, sexy, absolutely ravishing mother." Atilla had slightly leaned back, his head cocked back with closed eyes, obviously reminiscing.

Romalia Rejok "Ew, Dad.." She said, the 19 year old waltzing passed the Imperial prisoner of war as if having high priority prisoners was a common occurrence, it was. The Captains daughter having only made an appearance to retrieve her PADD. a pristine standard issue Republic PADD absolutely decorated in stickers and other amenities,

“Let’s NOT talk about Mom like that, yeah?” her question more of a demand, and all three individuals in the office could recognize that. “It’s gross.” She stated, making her leave.

Marrus’ Former Commander “Your… daughter?”

Atilla Rejok “Yeah…”

The Commander of what was the I.R.W. Marrus would be then unceremoniously placed into a casket-probe, and left somewhere in outskirts of the Chaltok system with finite oxygen for the RRF to potentially retrieve and save, otherwise she would suffocate in the “supped up” coffin.