* * * * * * * * * * * The mutiny began soon after that. Not with violent words or an open defiance. It simply happened, as lynch mobs decided to take matters into their own hands. From there the situation escalated. "The prisoner's injuries are grave, and I'm under orders from the Admiral not to let anyone near him," Doctor Thrace informed the crowd clustered in front of his door, voice trembling slightly. His hand hovered behind him by the red button which would summon security. "We don't give a flying toss, Doc," the apparent head of the group answered, glaring down at Thrace, who swallowed nervously. "That split-lip killed one of our own under our damn noses, and we demand justice!" "I'm going to have to ask you to leave, sergeant," Thrace replied, mustering his courage. "If you've got a problem, take it up with the Admiral--" Ahkrin heard all this faintly, as if he were underwater and hearing voices above the surface. He ached all over as his eyes began to slowly open. The Sangheili was inside a small cubical, lying on a hospital bed. From the sound of it, the people speaking were some metres away, standing by the entrance to the small medical bay. They couldn't see him, yet. In the air hung the smell of primitive human chemicals they used as treatments. The voices escalated, becoming angrier and more frenzied. "Security!" Ahkrin faintly heard one shout. "They're behind us, Doc. On the right side. How 'bout you? You gonna let us take the scaly bastard or are we gonna have to take extreme measures?" Ahkrin's mind finally woke up, and he was made aware of the danger that he was in. He propped himself up, stifling the gasp of pain begging to be released as best as he could. His legs were set in heavy white casts, and gingerly he tested them. Left foot. [i]Pain![/i] After recovering from the unbearable heat surging through his body, Ahkrin realised that the leg he had been shot in was still useless. Only his right leg had healed sufficiently enough for him to stand on without nearly fainting. "What is this, a mutiny?!" the Doctor demanded, voice growing shriller and full of fear. Ahkrin spotted what he presumed to be a crutch near his bed, and grabbed it. He experimented standing up with it, and found that he could move without collapsing. [i]But I'm in no state to fight who-knows-how-many healthy humans like this,[/i] Ahkrin thought to himself, knowing that he could not bludgeon his way through this situation. Then he spotted it, gleaming on the table. A small scalpel, left out in the open for anyone to grab. The foolish Doctor had left him a weapon. Ahkrin quickly grabbed it, and slowly hobbled towards the entrance to his cubicle, posting himself at the side of it in preparation. Finally, what he knew had been coming from the moment he had regained full awareness happened. [i]Smack![/i] The Doctor cried out in shock, before dropping heavily to the ground as the mutinying humans stepped over him. Ahkrin heard all this, using his skills to paint a mental picture of the scene. He could faintly hear the Doctor still breathing, but that might not last for long. [i]Why am I worried about that? He's human. Sorran's infectious sentimentally had better not be affecting me also.[/i] He snapped back to the present. What he was about to do was foolish and all depended on the camaraderie these marines shared. But there was no other option. "He's over here," the aggressor who had seemingly hit to doctor spoke. "I'll go get him, you take point." Ahkrin's hearts pounded as he waited for the man to enter the room. A head peeked through the doorway, grinning maliciously as he held a taut wire in his hand. The grin turned to a puzzled frown as the human saw an empty bed. He looked around. And Ahkrin struck. Moving quickly and ignoring the pain, he dealt a swift and neutralising blow to the human's abdomen, knocking all the wind out of him. Pain shot through Ahkrin's body like a million needles puncturing his skin, and he struggled to suppress it. Before he could recover his breath, Ahkrin grabbed the man and held him in a tight vice grip, holding the scalpel up to his neck. The Sangheili could probably kill him without the weapon, but didn't want to chance anything in his state. Besides, a blade held to a throat looked far more menacing. The attack had been completely silent, something Ahkrin was proud of, especially given his condition. His hand was clamped tightly over the man's mouth, masking all but bulbous, uncomprehending eyes staring up at him with horror. Ahkrin bared his teeth and felt the man struggle slightly. He was afraid. He could hear the humans outside the cubicle murmuring, wondering what was taking so long. Ahkrin finally decided to put the next step of his plan in gear. "Are all you humans so easily taken hostage? I have had better tussles with a grub," Ahkrin spoke loudly, immediately inciting gasps. Slowly, he walked out, dragging the hapless human hostage along with him. He was met with wide eyed stares and levied pistols. "Let him go," a burly security guard said, hands shaking. His behaviour was emulated throughout the rest of the group. "Not likely my friend. Throw down your weapons." One or two loosened their tight grasp on their pistols, but the rest hesitated. A marine finally decided to speak, stepping forward with a pitiful attempt at an unconcerned look. "Kill him, he doesn't matter to us," she said in a tone which she hoped was nonchalant. Ahkrin let the ghost of a smile flicker across his beaten face, having detected several give-aways in the woman's words that showed him as clearly as words could that she, and therefore most likely everyone else cared about this man's well-being. "Really? Very well then," Ahkrin answered, pressing ever so slightly with the scalpel, drawing a few drops of blood. The man stiffened, and he heard the tell-tale gasps from the others that betrayed the fact that they all cared. "Wait," one of them spoke, his face covered by a mirrored visor. Coward. Ahkrin turned to him coolly. "Weapons. Floor. Don't pretend that you don't understand me; in all probability I speak your language better than you do. Now comply with my commands, or this man dies." "And then we shoot you," the security guard who had first spoken answered. "You ain't gonna kill him." "Maybe not, but that doesn't mean I can't... oh, I don't know," Ahkrin lazily crept a few sharp fingers (his nails needed t-blam!- direly) up the man's face, resting them below his eyes. "Perhaps gouge out his eyes? Cut out his tongue? Render all his senses useless, so that he is just a husk of a man trapped with only his own no doubt painfully droll thoughts for the rest of his life? It's your decision." His threats were shortly met with pale, sickened faces and the clattering of weapons as they dropped to the ground. Ahkrin smiled in a macabre fashion, before nodding at a small cell in the corner of the room no doubt designed to contain those too dangerous to be treated in the open. In their arrogance, the humans hadn't thought that he'd be able to move in his state. "Get in there, all of you. Don't make me wait." They reluctantly moved as one into the cell, cramped and pressed up against the bars uncomfortably. Ahkrin flicked a switch on the far wall, beginning the process of shutting the cell door. At the last second, Ahkrin tore the man who was his hostage away from him and threw him into the cell too. A desperate marine lunged for the gap, trapping his fingers inside and screaming with pain as they were crushed by the heavy steel. "Like thornbeast penned for the slaughter," Ahkrin breathed, picking up one of their discarded rifles and aiming it at them. They all shrank back, terrified. Ahkrin's finger rested on the trigger, slowly squeezed. And stopped. Ahkrin stared at them for a second and their helpless plight, before lowering the rifle down to his side and exhaling. "I'll let you live if you tell me what you planned to do. Is this confined?" A female marine shook her head, unable to tear her eyes away from the heavy rifle as it was effortlessly held at Ahkrin's side like she would hold a pistol. "Ship-wide mutiny. You're the enemy! And Admiral Cole is treating you like guests. We're sick of it, and you're all going to pay. We may not have gotten you but someone will, murdering split-lip," she spat, and Ahkrin nodded. "We'll see about that." His attention turned next to the prone body of Doctor Thrace, and he chuckled gormlessly, indicating the body. "Perhaps next time you should remember who your allies are." They collectively winced, and Ahkrin bent down to check the man's pulse. After a few minutes of rudimentary examinations he confirmed that the man was stable. He turned away, wondering absently why he was pleased with this discovery. [i]I need to get to Zharn, and quick. If there's a mutiny, they'll be going after him for sure,[/i] Ahkrin thought as he left the hospital door and entered a generic piece of the ship's hallway, picking up another rifle and holding it in his other hand as he walked, edges of the ridiculously thin medical garment swaying slightly. [i]We've been helpless for too long; in the chaos this mutiny will bring, it is our chance to make our escape. Perhaps I'll even get lucky and we'll end up leaving Orpheus behind.[/i] [Edited on 12.16.2010 11:06 AM PST]