Disclaimer: Star Trek and all related names are trademarks of Paramount Studios, most of the characters in this story belong to me.
This story features the Romulans as shown by Diane Duane in her "Rihannsu" novels, and makes some use of the language created by her (as well as some additions made over the years by Rihanha fans). Phrases written in the language will be translated into English one way or another.
This story is dedicated to my dear Draxia, without whom this story could not be possible. Jol-ao au, a'rhea. ("I love you, dear-heart")
History: This story is set sometime during Season 4 of Star Trek: Deep Space 9
"Rightful Vengeance"
By William Logan
Chapter 1: The Assassin
S'Len tr'Rehu sat perched on a dark rooftop half a kilometer from his intended target's home, keeping his disruptor rifle pointed squarely at the man's head. The man in the crosshairs was Dahae tr'Lakkner, an important figure in the Tal Shiar, the Rihanha "secret police," who kept a close eye on everyone in the vast Rihannsu Empire. The reports said that he lived in his mansion with no one but his staff, who served him hand and foot at all times. S'Len kept his index finger directly behind the trigger, preparing to strike at the most opportune moment. Tr'Lakkner approached the window of his home, looking outside as he sipped a glass of what appeared to be ale, judging by the cerulean color of the liquid in the cup he held. The sniper lined his sights up, aiming directly between his target's eyes and brought his finger onto the trigger, slowly pulling back, ready to take the man's life, it wasn't as thought Dahae hadn't taken a number of innocent lives in his lifetime. It was then that a small girl, no more than ten years in age, ran up to tr'Lakkner, wrapping her arms around the Tal Shiar operative's legs. S'Len's trigger finger eased off and he closed his eyes, silently cursing the Elements. Enough innocence had been lost already, there was no need to force the little girl to watch a man die in front of her. The Rihanha sniper muttered to himself, throwing his rifle down on the roof and leaning back with a sigh, his mission a failure, either due to bad data on his employer's part or good intelligence on his target's. S'Len ran a hand through his short-cropped black hair and sighed, closing his eyes, until he heard footsteps on the roof behind him. He wrapped his fingers around the kaleh he always carried with him, his honor blade. It had belonged to his sister, but that seemed like so many years ago.
"Very disappointing, Etre tr'Rehu," he heard a familiar voice say from behind. He turned to see the face of the human who employed him, a face covered with the indentations in the skin that seemed to always come to those who are either older in years, or simply in experience.
"Sloan, I wasn't going to kill the man in front of a little girl, enough innocence has been lost as it is!" S'Len said, not releasing his grip on the dagger in his belt. The man belonged to a Federation agency known as Section 31. S'Len knew very little about the outfit, besides the fact that they paid him to eliminate certain security threats within the Empire. Until now, they had allowed him to make the calls on who died or lived, based on his own judgement and morals, but now he wondered if that was all over.
"You are not the hero you try to pretend to be, tr'Rehu," Sloan said, eyeing the Rihannsu with a shake of his head, "you are an assassin, a murderer of the highest prowess." Funny, S'Len thought to himself, that I become a murderer after spending years in medical school to become a doctor. "However, I came to tell you that I have more information on the killing of your dear sister, Varel." That was what had started everything, the death of his sister three years ago. He had changed forever then, becoming something of a vigilante for hire, eliminating top ranking officers of the Tal Shiar for profit and information. Section 31 had done a good job keeping his identity unknown for quite some time, although sometimes he had to wonder how they managed to keep it secret from the ever-watchful Tal Shiar.
"And what would that be," he asked, pained to even think back to the day that he had lost her.
"You should be relieved to know that your suspicions have been right all these years. Her killer was a Tal Shiar operative, not a rogue militant Romulan faction leader as the report had said."
"What's their name?"
"Perhaps you'll find that out after you finish a few more jobs for us." Sloan stepped backwards, appearing to fall off the roof. S'Len knew, however, that he had made no such fall, Sloan was quite famous for his disappearing acts. He turned back to see tr'Lakkner playing with the little girl and sighed. He would gain no further knowledge of the circumstances of Varel's death tonight, that was for certain. As per the instructions, he left the disruptor rifle on the rooftop and took a nearby staircase down to the street, heading home to sleep and wait for his next assignment.
To Be Continued
This story features the Romulans as shown by Diane Duane in her "Rihannsu" novels, and makes some use of the language created by her (as well as some additions made over the years by Rihanha fans). Phrases written in the language will be translated into English one way or another.
This story is dedicated to my dear Draxia, without whom this story could not be possible. Jol-ao au, a'rhea. ("I love you, dear-heart")
History: This story is set sometime during Season 4 of Star Trek: Deep Space 9
"Rightful Vengeance"
By William Logan
Chapter 1: The Assassin
S'Len tr'Rehu sat perched on a dark rooftop half a kilometer from his intended target's home, keeping his disruptor rifle pointed squarely at the man's head. The man in the crosshairs was Dahae tr'Lakkner, an important figure in the Tal Shiar, the Rihanha "secret police," who kept a close eye on everyone in the vast Rihannsu Empire. The reports said that he lived in his mansion with no one but his staff, who served him hand and foot at all times. S'Len kept his index finger directly behind the trigger, preparing to strike at the most opportune moment. Tr'Lakkner approached the window of his home, looking outside as he sipped a glass of what appeared to be ale, judging by the cerulean color of the liquid in the cup he held. The sniper lined his sights up, aiming directly between his target's eyes and brought his finger onto the trigger, slowly pulling back, ready to take the man's life, it wasn't as thought Dahae hadn't taken a number of innocent lives in his lifetime. It was then that a small girl, no more than ten years in age, ran up to tr'Lakkner, wrapping her arms around the Tal Shiar operative's legs. S'Len's trigger finger eased off and he closed his eyes, silently cursing the Elements. Enough innocence had been lost already, there was no need to force the little girl to watch a man die in front of her. The Rihanha sniper muttered to himself, throwing his rifle down on the roof and leaning back with a sigh, his mission a failure, either due to bad data on his employer's part or good intelligence on his target's. S'Len ran a hand through his short-cropped black hair and sighed, closing his eyes, until he heard footsteps on the roof behind him. He wrapped his fingers around the kaleh he always carried with him, his honor blade. It had belonged to his sister, but that seemed like so many years ago.
"Very disappointing, Etre tr'Rehu," he heard a familiar voice say from behind. He turned to see the face of the human who employed him, a face covered with the indentations in the skin that seemed to always come to those who are either older in years, or simply in experience.
"Sloan, I wasn't going to kill the man in front of a little girl, enough innocence has been lost as it is!" S'Len said, not releasing his grip on the dagger in his belt. The man belonged to a Federation agency known as Section 31. S'Len knew very little about the outfit, besides the fact that they paid him to eliminate certain security threats within the Empire. Until now, they had allowed him to make the calls on who died or lived, based on his own judgement and morals, but now he wondered if that was all over.
"You are not the hero you try to pretend to be, tr'Rehu," Sloan said, eyeing the Rihannsu with a shake of his head, "you are an assassin, a murderer of the highest prowess." Funny, S'Len thought to himself, that I become a murderer after spending years in medical school to become a doctor. "However, I came to tell you that I have more information on the killing of your dear sister, Varel." That was what had started everything, the death of his sister three years ago. He had changed forever then, becoming something of a vigilante for hire, eliminating top ranking officers of the Tal Shiar for profit and information. Section 31 had done a good job keeping his identity unknown for quite some time, although sometimes he had to wonder how they managed to keep it secret from the ever-watchful Tal Shiar.
"And what would that be," he asked, pained to even think back to the day that he had lost her.
"You should be relieved to know that your suspicions have been right all these years. Her killer was a Tal Shiar operative, not a rogue militant Romulan faction leader as the report had said."
"What's their name?"
"Perhaps you'll find that out after you finish a few more jobs for us." Sloan stepped backwards, appearing to fall off the roof. S'Len knew, however, that he had made no such fall, Sloan was quite famous for his disappearing acts. He turned back to see tr'Lakkner playing with the little girl and sighed. He would gain no further knowledge of the circumstances of Varel's death tonight, that was for certain. As per the instructions, he left the disruptor rifle on the rooftop and took a nearby staircase down to the street, heading home to sleep and wait for his next assignment.
To Be Continued