<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffa500">[Events take place after shuttle rendezvous and scene in shuttle bay, feel free to make time move back and forth in a scene at your preference]</span><br/><br/><a class="link link--internal" href="https://bluemoonroleplaying.com/forums/showthread.php?tid=83335&amp;pid=2015179#pid2015179"><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#dda0dd">Iona Knutesdottir<br/>
</span></a>The St. Anne / Sick Bay<br/>Evening Watch<br/>Tagged: Dr. Khan<br/><br/>She would never admit it, certainly would come unglued if anyone else said it, but there were many times when Sonakshi took over from Dr. Khan, even though they were the same woman.  Dr. Khan was gruff and handed Iona an emesis try with the protest that she didn't want to have to clean up Iona's vomit.  Sonakshi helped keep her hair, mussed and undone from when they'd taken off her Snoopy hat to check for additional injuries, out of her face and out of the tray and then gently, very gently, used a hot wet cloth to wash Iona's face afterwards, removing the worst of the mess and taking the tray away without comment.  Dr. Khan might rub some people the wrong way, and she could be clinically terrifying at times recounting her unorthodox ways of treating combat injuries, but at heart she was full of compassion and sometimes let it out instead of keeping it behind her prickly walls that Iona knew had been constructed for good reasons.<br/><br/>Here, alone, the Captain felt like she could acknowledge the softer side of Sonakshi without pushing Dr. Khan into an affronted, foul tempered anger.  Just as Sonakshi finished washing up Iona's face, Iona's slender, long fingers closed around the other woman's wrist and held it.  Sliding the washcloth free with her other hand, Iona held it and then slowly slid her fingers down the Doctor's wrist, fingertips spidering across the pulse point, before twining them through the stubbier fingers that belonged to the Doctor.<br/><br/>"Thank you," she said not softly but with firm, personal rather than professional sincerity.  Her fingers squeezed against Sonakshi's, then she let go and, still holding the cloth and dabbing at her face where there was perceived stickiness, left the sick bay and headed to her personal quarters.<br/><br/><hr class="bbc-hr bbc-hr--3"/><br/><a class="link link--internal" href="https://bluemoonroleplaying.com/forums/showthread.php?tid=83335&amp;pid=2015179#pid2015179"><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#dda0dd">Iona Knutesdottir<br/>
</span></a>The St. Anne / Captain's Stateroom<br/>Evening Watch<br/>Tagged: Closed<br/><br/>After watching the video attached to the message sent to the St. Anne's Master's address, Iona threw up again, only this time into a bag designed to handle the issue in zero-g.  Just as Donovan kept his quarters cranked up to make him feel comfortable, Iona usually kept hers in zero-g by preference.  The bag went into the disposal and she went into her shower, electing for the sonic option so as not to have to deal with the issue of zero-g and water's incredible surface tension and cohesion.  Powerful, almost audible at the very high edge of hearing sound waves scoured grime, remnants of dried blood and being sick, and other things from her skin and a swirling air vortex sucked it all away, leaving Iona dry and clean.  She still hurt, a lot, but that could be dealt with.  After putting on a clean ship suit and replacing the magazine in her shard pistol with a fresh one and also topping up the empty pouch of the spare, Iona added one final item from the lock box in her room and left.  She still hadn't talked to anyone other than the Doctor since being brought on board and no one else had seen the video.<br/><br/><hr class="bbc-hr bbc-hr--3"/><br/><a class="link link--internal" href="https://bluemoonroleplaying.com/forums/showthread.php?tid=83335&amp;pid=2015179#pid2015179"><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#dda0dd">Iona Knutesdottir<br/>
</span></a>The St. Anne / Bridge<br/>Evening Watch<br/>Tagged:<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ff0000"><b>ALL</b></span><br/><br/>"My ship," she said as she entered the Bridge, though no one was keeping a watch as she'd put the St. Anne into autonomous mode when they all left.  Iona dogged the hatch behind her, ensuring no one else could enter until she let them or they had her override code.  Only one other person did and she trusted them not to use it.  It took her a quarter cycle to queue the vid into the main screen, set up the camera to record, and to finalize her plan of action.<br/><br/>There wasn't another choice she could see.  Her hand was forced, the cards dealt, the die cast.<br/><br/>Dialing up the volume level, Iona keyed the shipwide comms, both audible and electronically broadcast to in or near the ship receivers.  "All hands secure your detail and report to the bridge immediately."<br/><br/>Opening the hatch, Iona took up a position facing away from it.  Unusually for her the crew would notice that the gravity was at standard g when they entered and that Iona didn't acknowledge anyone, standing with her feet slightly apart and her hands palm down against her hips, leaving her elbows bent out from her body.<br/><br/>Once the entire crew that she knew to be aboard was assembled, Iona reached out to the console in front of her, still without turning around.  The hatch sighed shut and locking bolts snicked into place.<br/><br/>Another button press and the screen came alive in front of the crew, Iona's body silhouetted off to the side of it, and the ransom demand played out in larger than life rendition.  Mateo had been worked over in it, though unknown to them not as heavily as he had been later, and it was a brutal beating.  Their demands came though as loud and as clear as the thumps of fists on Mateo's skin.<br/><br/>"...-iver the debtor to us by the end of standard evening watch or we'll organ harvest him a piece at a time," the hum of a vibroblade held near Mateo's belly gave an unpleasant buzz to the vid, "scrap his cybernetics and deliver the rest to you as just so much useless protein."  A final, very hard blow to Mateo and the vid cut off.<br/><br/>Turning to face her crew, Iona's eyes found those of Thomyris.<br/><br/>There was no pity, no regret, no emotion at all other than a calm faced demeanor that Iona wore by habit when conning the St. Anne through difficult space.<br/><br/>From her thigh pocket she took out a pair of cuffs, standard issue high-security peace officer ones, and tossed them underhanded to Donovan.<br/><br/>"Secure the debtor Thomyris Heroux," she ordered, no pity or regret in her voice.  "We're making the exchange."