USS BRITANNIC
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Scraps and Scrambles

Posted on Sat Aug 29th, 2020 @ 4:38pm by Zaggor Pell & Zirvell Khen

Mission: Mission 1: Good Things Come To Those Who Wait
Location: Zahrikhat City, Lamenda III
Timeline: Unknown

Zaggor Pell looked out at the ruins of Zahrikhat City and couldn’t help but feel pained by what he saw. What was a vibrant and flourishing city was now just piles upon piles of rubble and dust.

For weeks, the provisional Cardassian government had been promising aid and support for the Lamenda III survivors, yet nothing had come. Their only saving grace had been Starfleet. The mere thought of the word brought up so much hatred. Why hadn’t they been successful in their conflict with the Federation and her Allies. They had been so close to victory but now they had to wait for their humanitarian aid as their own people couldn’t organise a crate of yammock sauce to be delivered let alone shelter, medical supplies and much needed food.

Disgusted by what he saw he closed the flap to his tent that he used as a makeshift government building. The people of Lamenda needed some sort of hope and organisation.

Zirvell felt miserable, hungry and cold. His clothes were getting rather threadbare and he had already lost his boots as they'd been stolen during one night. He rubbed his arms as he sauntered through the streets, seeing the movement from a tent nearby. perhaps there would be food there? He didn't recognize the person who had ducked back inside, he'd been too isolated, too much keeping to himself to know anything. He was the discarded son of a Gul, he had no right to his name some seemed to think. And yet none of it had really been his fault because all he wanted, was to help people. And now, he couldn't even help himself.

The boy snorted to himself as he prawled up to the tent, circling it a few times. Dare he go inside and beg for food? Should he wait?

Pell heard someone outside, there had been rumours of people fighting over food and other supplies. As much as he wanted to help the people of the Lamenda there will still be those that want to take from others. He slowly reached from the disruptor on his desk. “Who’s there?!” He called out. “I’m armed!”

"So am I!" Zirvell shouted back, holding the small knife he had found a few days ago. It wasn't much but it was something he could defend himself with if needed. He didn't recognize the voice from inside either but the comfort of a rent was decidedly better than a roofless or windowless building, wasn't it? "I need food," he added, cringing inwardly. Was he too cowardice to just take it? His father would be so ashamed!

Zirvell frowned, drawing himself up. Screw his father! He abandoned his only surviving child, fled to who knew where leaving him to die. "Now!" He added more forcefully, in the hope of hiding the fact that he was still very young.

Zaggor heard a youthful voice, not young, maybe mid-late teenager. “Come in...slowly. I won’t hurt you unless you try anything stupid.”

Fingers tightening around the handle of his knife, Zirvell inched towards the entrance then quickly ducked inside, holding the knife out. It was pretty clear he was no fighter, both from lack of muscle as well as his stance. His eyes darted around the tent however, quickly taking everything in. "Where's the food," he demanded.

Pell looked the young man before him up and down a few times before he lowered his weapon. It looked like the boy was in good need of a hot meal, a shower and clean clothes. “Lower your weapon, young man, you won’t need it here. When was the last time you ate a decent meal?” He asked, placing the disruptor on the table.

Suspicious, Zirvell eyed the man before putting the knife away. "Three days," he said, "there's no food out there. People are getting murdered over scraps gone bad. A lot are sick from eating it."

“I know.” Pell replied with a sigh. “There’s not a lot I can do about it. With the provisional government not sending any help or aid, we appear to be on our own. Although, I have heard Starfleet are sending a couple of ships, though I won’t hold my breath to when they get here. I doubt a recent enemy will be a priority for them.”

"You mean, we're no match for them. The leaders have all fled, abandoned us to starve while they fled," the boy spat, hatred in his eyes. "They'll put conditions to us receiving assistance, and we'll have no choice otherwise we'll starve."

“Of Lamenda, yes, the planetary leaders fled before the Jem’Hadar finished levelling the colony. The centralised Government are in disarray. Too many problems and not enough solutions for them to start healing our people. As for us, we’re left to fend for ourselves. Can we do it? I’m sure we can, but we need to work together.” Pell smiled, “I need good people to step up, a few have but I need more. Do you fancy it? Helping Lamenda to help stand for itself again?”

"I'm not a soldier," Zirvell protested, "I don't like to fight." But he had and would to survive. His face turned into a look of disgust. "My father was one who fled. After mother and my sisters were killed, he fled... I'll kill him if I ever see him again." He looked up. "I'll help but I won't fight."

“I don’t mean fight literally, I mean work hard to get this once great planet up on its feet again.” Pell said with a smile. “It sounds like you’ve had to do a lot of growing up since this all happened. I’d like to hear more of your story. Come, I have a working replicator. It’s menu is limited but I’m sure there is something on there you’ll eat.”

The boy's eyes went wide. "You have a replicator.... and you allow people to starve out there? Can't you ration at least to mothers with children?" He'd seen several young mothers still suckling babies, and they had nothing to eat. "I'd rather you give my share to them.. they need it more than I do." Even if he was barely skin on bones by now.

“Unfortunately, it has very limited power. I do have a couple of people going round giving what food we can but it’s a drop in the ocean. If the replicator is discovered it will cause more chaos and pain. For now this is what it is.” The older Cardassian said. “Trust me, if i could safely feed everyone then I would; Zahrikhat City has suffered more than enough. Please, come and choose your meal.” He said as he uncovered the small replicator unit.

"Something simple," Zirvell said, "and I'll take half. There's a woman with a baby across the street I want her to have the other half." Already the boy's mind was racing; how could he take this thing and help others? This was so greedy! So unjust!

“What about Taspar eggs?” Pell offered, he noticed something in the boys eyes. He was planning something, Zaggor wasn’t sure what but he knew that look.

Zirvell knew he was being watched, and realized he had to be careful now. "Eggs are good," he said distractedly as he glanced around the tent. "How many leaders are left?" He asked, "how are we going to get back onto our feet?"

Pell nodded as he programmed the Replicator to produce the eggs. “Lamenda has no leadership, well, apart from what I’m trying to do. I suspect there’s been a power grab on Cardassia though.” He said before taking the eggs out of the replicator and placing them on his desk. “Please, sit and enjoy.”

Enjoyment wasn't something he was capable of right now. He didn't even eat half of it before running out with the plate and delivering it to the nursing woman like he said he would. He said nothing as he unceremoniously dropped the plate in her lap and ran back to the tent. "How can I eat so much when others are starving, when little children are fighting and murdering each other for scraps?"

“You need to survive. You are the future of the colony.” Zaggor said with a small smile. “After you have eaten I have a job for you.”

"Of course." Never expect a kind act to be just that.... "What is it?"

“I’m guessing you’re aware of the subterranean prison on the edge of the city?” Zaggor said.

"Yes sir," the boy answered, holding his breath. "Supposedly the rebels are held there sir, and the worst criminals. Why?"

“There’s only Cardassia’s worst criminals in there now. We just didn’t have the resources to hold everyone.” Zaggor said as moved to his desk and pulled out a sizeable box from underneath. “I’d like you to take this food package to the prison for the guards.”

"Define worst criminal," Zirvell muttered as he watched the box. "Is that all you want from me, in exchange for the egg?" Food was a commodity, it was beyond priceless to have a proper meal right now.

“Federation prisoners from before the war. The Dominion moved them here to free up space in other prisons for POWs. All are secure, I just like the guards to keep their strength up.” Zaggor replied. “Work with me, and I can give you a square meal a day. I know it doesn’t sound much but it’ll go along way to belong this colony get back in its feet.”

"But if they're federation prisoners... aren't they often unjustly detained?" Zirvell dared to ask. "Wouldn't we better free them and hope they'll get us the help we need?"

“They were criminals before the war, therefore remain enemies of the state.” Pell replied.

"What state... the government that no longer exists? That abandoned us here like we mean nothing?" A hint of defiance touched the boy's eyes.

“They were enemies of Cardassia before the war. They will stay as such until someone tells us otherwise.” Pell replied defiantly. He gave the boy a stern look. “Would you prefer more problems here on Lamenda?”

"No sir," the boy answered softly, "but if they're able to afford help, or get the word out.... we're not the ones that locked them up, are we?"

“Of course not. They were tried and sentenced by the Cardassian courts. Come on lad, eat up.” Zaggor said with a small smile.

Zirvell nodded, believing it unwise to offer more ideas for now. He quickly finished the remainder of his food, then picked up the package. "Do you require proof of delivery?"

“I’m in contact with my people at the prison. They’ll let me know if you arrive or not.” Zaggor replied. “They won’t like to be kept hungry.” He added as a warning.

Zirvell nodded again. "I'll go at once," he said, then ducked out the tent.

 

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