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Character(s) affected: Gideon Drake
Assigned ship(s): Katra Station
Date of last period of activity: A few months ago, I can't recall.

Been meaning to put in a reserve request for this alt for a long time now. I've lost a great deal of interest in the character, especially when it transpires an NPC made for Katra has proven more interesting than he is. Even with different ways of keeping him interested, being a Helmsman (Like making him a squadron leader, etc), I've lost complete interest in the character.

[Praetor Domitian | Domitian's Base | Unroth System | Former Romulan Star Empire territory]

In his dreams, Domitian dreamt of his old life. The life he led a century and a quarter ago. The warlord who proclaimed himself a praetor among his faction, hoping he could reestablish the Romulan Star Empire...but before all that, he was Naitimod, a young scholar with ambitions, though Naitimod sounded ridiculous, so he reversed the name to make it sound better: Domitian.

He was a young scholar who shared a dream with a young budding politician named Pardek. They discussed at length the possibilities of reunification, rejoining the Romulans with the Vulcans. It was idle talk, but Domitian grew more and more serious about it. Fearing what would happen to them, their reputations, to promote such a radical approach, Pardek betrayed Domitian to the Tal Shiar, and so they sent him to rot in the pits of Remus.

The Pits...a deep dark abyss whose reputation is matched only by the Klingon's Rura Penthe. The ambitious scholar in Domitian died that day. He learned to survive. A hundred years in the Pits of Remus drained all color from his face. Then again, living a hundred years in the dark would do that to anybody.

He never cared for events on the outside, save a few snippets the Tal Shiar dropped temptingly, mostly to torment him. The only thing that shocked him was the news that Pardek really did attempt the process of reunification. He had struck a friendship with the most unlikely person imaginable: Spock of Vulcan. Spock had replaced Domitian in Pardek's friendship, and, again, it ended in betrayal: Pardek participated in an attempt to conquer Vulcan.

As Pardek once betrayed Domitian to preserve his reputation, so Pardek had betrayed the very idea of reunification to satisfy the Star Empire. The irony shocked Domitian utterly.

Years later, the Tal Shair would be back, but this time with an interesting offer: The Romulans were at war with an empire from another quadrant known as the Dominion. They had heard of his reputation of brutality and wanted him to lead troops of Remans to battle against the Dominion. A chance to get out of the Pits of Remus.

So for the first time in a hundred years, Domitian left Remus to lead troops. Of course, there was another non-Reman prominent in the war that led the Remans to victory: A human clone named Shinzon. But Shinzon was a blink of an eye compared to Domitian. His warbird chambers were decorated with the bones of Jem'Hadar, and the war had left an impression.

Taking advantage of the lull of peace, Domitian took his chance to hide. He struck deals with criminals from the Orion Syndicate, acting as a mercenary. Those loyal to him joined him. Then the Hobus Star destroyed both Romulus and Remus.

Taking advantage of the instant dissolving of the Star Empire and the factions that followed, Domitian wasted no time in declaring himself Praetor of a New Romulan Empire. The problem was that he had too few resources, both with his loyal band and criminal associates, to attempt to conquer. But they were enough to conquer Unroth and establish a base. And so he continued the lucrative trade by means of the Celendazure Run, a profitable route subtly passing through Federation and Klingon space going through two nebulae: The Celendi and the Azure nebula. Transportation brought him money and resources. Not men, yet anyway. He was sure the Tal Shiar, under Vreenak before his untimely demise, was developing a Jem'Hadar cloning facility to work with a potential alliance with the Dominion, half his men has been searching. Then there was the fact that he had to deal with the blonde harpy Sela...

...but no setbacks. Profits came in, especially with the slave trade, especially selling Reman slaves, Remans who disagreed with him. Tankers filling up sirilium at the Azure Nebula going to and from Unroth and Verex...

An uhlan appeared in his chambers. Domitian looked up. He knew perfectly well nobody was to disturb him unless absolutely necessary...

"Yes?" Domitian asked in an unctuous voice.

"We have a problem, Praetor," the man said nervously. "We lost one of our freighters at the Azure Nebula."

"How did this happen," the warlord said in a low, dangerous tone.

"They were trying to rush things by fueling their engines with sirilium. The resultant explosion has crippled the ship. The Federation has impounded the ship, once they towed it away. Our spies on Starbase 84 has confirmed it."

Domitian closed his eyes and grit his teeth. Those fools. And if that was also a slave ship, sooner or later, they were going to be found by the Federation.

"No chance of escape or purging them?" he asked.

"Our spies will do the best they can," said the uhlan.

"Try harder," he said. "If the ship gets beyond our reach, we risk exposure. Meantime, I think we need to notify our friend Narran."

"At once, Praetor. Jolan tru," said the uhlan in farewell.

[Lieutenant JG Gideon Drake | Brig | Promenade | Katra Station]

Gideon had stopped by the brig to enjoy seeing the security on the station make the little bugger squirm. Or to make his life uncomfortable as possible.

Deej Cloten was busy lounging, a cigar in his mouth. A security officer was trying to rouse him.

"Wake up, furball," he snapped. Cloten opened one eye and saw the two officers.

"Come to gloat?" he asked.

"I did," Gideon said in amusement. "I really enjoy watching the whole hullabaloo."

"About time you're awake," snapped the grunt. "Now, there were a couple of Orions here last night. What do you know about it?"

Cloten feigned disinterest, though he heard the exchange; the only race to match his sharp hearing were El-Aurians and Ferengi. He heard the Orion visitors talking to his Orion crewmembers, the ones who defied his policies of not transporting slaves. He could hear some excited whispers: Something about a rare crossbreed on the station they're intending to grab and something about trying to kill Cloten once they get the chance.

Cloten figured his chances of survival were good. Anybody trying to bump off a rat wouldn't get far; Starfleet security grunts would be on them faster than a targ to a hog on a spit. But the crossbreed got his attention. They were slavers, no doubt, but what crossbreed on the station could they be here for?

"Hell if I know," growled Cloten. "Now, am I to expect anybody from Starfleet's head honchos about my information?"

[Lieutenant JG Gideon Drake | Cockpit | Scoutship Squall]

Today, Gideon was on a training flight with a security officer. He often helped out in such trainings, as pilots and security officers were paired with each other to train for flight combat. Sometimes, holodecks with scenarios set in the past were essential for flight combat training, like the Flying Tigers or the Battle of Britain.

However, today's security officer meant a space flight; old Skargarr would've been too big to fit in a two-seater Spitfire, anyway. As intimidating as he was, Gideon liked the Gorn.

"Okay, we'll be doing some target practicing today," Gideon announced. "I'm going to be doing my usual flying; you're going to be taking phaser shots as we go by. It's okay if you don't hit all the targets as we move; it's often tricky to hit anything when moving, anyway."

It's what Gideon often said when he was flight training. It was understandable; anybody had a hard time shooting while riding, it was a skill honed that dated back millennia, with shooting bow and arrow on horseback. Air-wise...well, Gideon often had an amused imagination in that the first war planes had the problem of their guns shooting off the propellers, but this was long before they were modified so guns can shoot without hitting propellors.

This was also chiefly why he picked an asteroid belt for target practice. He always came to belts like these, even when he was learning the ropes: Good easy targets, and also easy to evade away from, goodly spaced, as most asteroid belts were.

Character(s) affected: Gideon Drake
Assigned ship(s): Katra Station
Period of time absent: About Two Weeks
Date of last period of activity: July 23rd
Date returning: August First

[EARLIER...]

[Ensign Gideon "Gryphon/Griff" Drake | Runabout Tigris | Meridian]

Gideon had been wondering what was that noise. He had been hearing something wonky ever since he got the necessary parts for transport down to Meridian. Maybe that's what they do, normally.

Once he landed, he began unloading the cargo, but was halfway done when he came across a surprise...

EARLIER...

[Shuttle Bay | Docking Saucer | Katra Station]

Work had been progressing with loading the spare parts for Meridian onto the Tigris. There were lots of things to take down, and a lot of boxes. Plenty of places to hide. And plenty of boxes to carry in via hover cart, to move the more heavier materials. One particular box was very big, and meant to carry a new replicator, except it had been emptied because the replicator needed fine-tuning. Gideon loaded it on via hover cart, puzzled how a new replicator could be so heavy, thinking the engineer in question had finished the replicator...only it wasn't carrying a new replicator...

[Ensign Gideon Drake | Main Medbay | Deck Twenty-Two | Katra Station]

Gideon was waiting for the CMO for his physical. He had to admit, this being all the way down, close enough to the bloody bowels.

It was usual for new officers to undergo a physical, especially when they had just transferred to a new post. Protocol, even. His own folks were especially used to it, the military family always expected them.

Of course, Gideon felt it was likely to be interesting to be examined by this Doctor Xiiv. He never met the doctor before. He was also interested in the name. Xiiv? XI-IV. Eleven-four. Interesting sounding name, two Roman Numerals meshed together.

[Ensign Gideon Drake | Promenade | Deck 14 | Katra Station]

Gideon waited at the Promenade for Serena to arrive, standing out prominently, no pun intended. Of course he would, how many ginger men were there on the station? And particularly, he was the only ginger somebody without spots; he had seen Lieutenant Falleg and her bairns once or twice in passing, and they weren't particularly hard to miss, even without the noise the bairns often make.

He managed to call Serena when she got off duty, while he also got off duty, and arranged a meeting at the Promenade. He had to admit, he liked her even more when he found out her first name. It was as beautiful as her looks.

So now he waited for her at one of the main places at the Promenade, where he can easily be seen. He often posed in a swagger but his expression was that of a crooked yet polite smile. The flyboy persona, as it were. It often got plenty of attention, especially since he was one of few people who were naturally ginger.

[Ensign Gideon Drake | Flight Deck | Scoutship Squall | Proximity to Bajoran Wormhole]

Gideon was intrigued to know that his new posts' command officers, Captain Kirok and Commander Briggs, were wanting transport the rest of the way from Deep Space Nine. The trip on the Tempest was certainly uneventful, though Gideon wished he had flown the whole way. Still, transports were transports, though the Tempest, to Gideon, seemed to big for a transport.

It's not a transport, it's basically just a bloody huge flying city, he thought.

He was bored out of his mind after all the time of practice on the holodeck. He wanted to get going and fly in a real craft. Though Uncle Boothby promised his time would come. "Just be patient and don't whinge," he told him. "Whingers get into trouble. A lot."

When he was informed to choose a craft to take the command officers to Katra, Gideon might as well have leaped a meter into the air. He went through all the craft available. Wee shuttles, basic runabouts and...he did a double take when he saw it. It was a scoutship, slightly bigger than a runabout and the perfect souped-up bird. He was especially interested in its name: Squall. He wondered if it was a coincidence. An auxiliary craft named Squall? In a barking huge flying city known as the Tempest?

Gideon had to briefly snort with amusement. His father had a similar ship, retired from service, that he used for his business trips in the family freight transport company, as all Drakes did when they didn't apply for Starfleet or retired from Starfleet. It was, for all intents and purposes, a yacht. Gideon always wanted to fly his yacht...and now here was, in a similar yacht, except it was basically a yacht still in service to Starfleet.

In no time at all, he had the scoutship ready. Now all that was needed were his very important passengers and they would be on their way to their new posts. With that, he tapped his comm badge.

"Captain Kirok? Commander Briggs?" he said. "Pre-flight checks have been completed. I'm ready when you both are, sirs."

He had to admit, it'll be interesting to serve under a Vulcan command officer. And the post was especially fitting. Katra Station. He also wondered if he might see ships from the family freight company from time to time; his father and Uncle Boothby, who had only joined after he retired from service himself and was thus still new to the job, hinted that they would be expanding so they'd get as far as Deep Space Nine and Katra. Whatever the case, it was the perfect post for him; a station, to Gideon, meant there could be frequent flight assignments. Not to mention stations were proper floating cities in themselves; in huge hubs like this, just like cities like London and Edinburgh, it's possible to see peoples from all over the quadrant by staying in the same place.