P
Pah-wraith
Guest
So, also ich hab mir überlegt ich poste einfach mal das erste kapitel meiner neuen DS9 FF und würde gerne eure Meinung erfahren 
Wenn sie euch gefällt werde ich natürlich sofort mehr davon posten, aber ich dachte zunächst reicht der Anfang, da die Story noch nicht ganz beendet ist. Ich denke das werde ich in näherer Zukunft aber wohl schaffen, es fehlen nur noch etwa 3 Kapitel, bisher hab ich sechs Stück zum posten bereit, Nummer 7 ist in Arbeit
Also lasst mich wissen wie es euch gefällt, viel Spaß bei "The Changing Face of Evil"
PS: Die Story hat nichts mit der gleichnamigen Folge zu tun
PPS: Ihr fragt euch vllt warum ich mich entschieden habe die Fanfiction auf Englisch zu schreiben, die Antwort ist denkbar einfach: Ich hab schwierigkeiten Science-Fiction auf Deutsch zu schreiben, da mir die Begriffe fehlen. Ich hab z.B. DS9 nie auf Deutsch gesehn Also wenn ihr fehler findet weißt mich drauf hin, ich versuch immer mein englisch zu verbessern
The Changing Face of Evil
Rating: R-16
Genre: Thriller, Science-Fiction
Based on: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Timeframe: 2373 (5th season)
Chapter 1: Khitomer
A terrible smell, a mix of alcohol and smoke filled the air of the small pub called ‘The Wreck’ which lived up to its name. The dim light of a few bare bulbs was barley lighting the smoky room but it was enough to see where you were going which obviously satisfied everyone. The pub was relatively crowded for its standards at this time of the day which happened to be the evening, about 10 pm. Some of the guests sat at small tables playing cards, others sat at the bar starring into their synthale and keeping to themselves. There was another smell next to that of the cigarettes and the drinks, it was the smell of opportunity how a Ferengi would call it. It didn’t seem as if the pub was favoured by a special species, it was a colorful mix of all this quadrant had to offer. Klingons, Breen, Andorians, Cardassians, Orions, even Romulans and Humans but no one seemed to pay attention, they stuck to business of their own. They didn’t care for what you did or didn’t do here, you could have killed someone and if anyone asked these people about it, nobody would have seen anything. Wads of smoke were floating along her arm when she rose her cigarette to her mouth to inhale. She kept the smoke in her lungs for a moment before blowing it out again on her way towards the bar. The woman of 28 years was the only Trill in the pub and probably the youngest person here too but it didn’t really matter anyway. She was dressed in tight blue pants which were plunged into black boots that reached almost up to her knees. Together with the thin jacket in the same blue with a wide neckline over a black top, it seemed like a jumpsuit. The jacket was hold in place by a black belt around her waist from which a klingon d'k tahg dagger was hanging next to a phase pistol. Her black, long hair was hanging into her face so that nobody would follow her glance while she surveyed the room with her steel blue eyes. Nobody paid attention to her, nobody looked up. She pushed her hair back behind her ears when she sat down at the bar leaning forward and resting her crossed arms on it while she waited for the bartender to show up. A few minutes later he did. He happened to be a fat Orion whose best days lay behind him. He was wearing lax pants which were hanging a little bit too low in her opinion and a white, sleeveless shirt that was smudged with things she didn’t intent to identify. He was cleaning out a glass with a dirty cloth while he asked her barely understandable because of the already cold butt in his mouth: “What’dcha want, Darlin’?”
“Bloodwine.” She replied coldly before raising the cigarette to her lips.
“Haven’t got any.” He said still busy with the glass and chewing on the cigarette stub.
“Then I suggest you find me some.” She responded as coldly as before, then she stubbed out her cigarette on the bar in front of him.
“What’d I get outa it?” He wanted to know leaning forward and grinning desirously at her. She leaned forward herself until their faces were only inches apart and his grin expanded. She grabbed his shirt with on hand and hissed:
“I’ll spare your miserable, worthless life!” She threw him back against the shelf on which a lot of bottles stood that now fell to the ground and broke. “Now get me that Bloodwine!” She disgustedly watched the bartender hurrying away. Then the young woman lit herself another cigarette. She inhaled deeply and closed her eyes for a second enjoying it. Suddenly she felt something had changed, something that hadn’t been there before, someone’s presence. She grabbed the hand that was reaching for her shoulder, kicked its owner in the guts und threw the person onto the ground, pressing her d’k tahg against his throat.
“I can see you haven’t changed a bit.” The romulan male noted. He was dressed in a long black rope that covered most of his other clothes. The hood had been thrown back during the short fight exposing his pointed ears and black hair. She let him go and watched how he got to his feet and continued: “Don’t get me wrong, never would I have recognized you from the looks but your behaviour hasn’t changed neither have your skills.”
“What are you here for, business or pleasure?” She wanted to know. The cold expression on her face didn’t change.
“I didn’t realize there was a difference as far as you are concerned.” He stroked over her cheek along the spots. “I must say I like your new appearance, that surgeon of yours did a damn fine job… as always as I recall.” She didn’t move at all and ignored his tough before she asked:
“What is it you want?”
“I got a job for you.” He answered after a short moment and pulled his hand back. She sat back down and noticed displeased that her cigarette had fallen on the ground when she had overwhelmed the Romulan. She took her time while lighting a new one, meanwhile the bartender returned with the Bloodwine she had ordered disappearing as fast again as he showed up.
“You know my price.” She said blowing out the smoke.
“I do.” He agreed not caring to take a seat. “A hundred bars of gold-pressed Latinum, fifty now, another when the job is done.” He picked up a black case that he had left a few meters away before he had approached her and put it on the bar next to her. She didn’t even take a look at it but said:
“I’m glade we could come to an agreement. Now tell me about that job of yours.”
“The Klingon ambassador to Earth, make it look like the humans did it, so that hell breaks loose between the Empire and the Federation.” She took a sip of the wine noticing satisfied that it tasted just fine.
“A week. Maybe two.” She replied then calmly.
“Very well.” He nodded. “If you need certain information contact me, the Tal Shiar will provide you with everything you need to know about the subject.” When she didn’t reply anything he turned to leave. He was already on his way out when she said:
”Isn’t it ironic? On the same planet the treaty between Klingons and Federation had been signed all that that will destroy it starts.” He didn’t walk on but didn’t come back either, he just responded:
“It isn’t all ironic, more like predestined, Khitomer will soon burn again.”
The streets of this village without a name on the surface of Khitomer were dark and empty at night. Everyone who lived here was either a searched criminal or on the best way to become one. But after all the Klingon Empire wasn’t as thorough about keeping every colony in perfect shape as for example the Federation was which only suited these people. This was the perfect place to hide if you don’t want anyone to come close to you. It was foggy this night in the village when she made her way through the small, dirty avenues carrying a case full of Latinum. It didn’t take her long to get to the apartment of hers she used when she was here which happened to be rare since she was often on ‘business trips’. When she entered she first threw the case onto the coach in the living room. Then sat down next to it and took another case from beneath the small table in front of it to set up a portable computer system. She needed to get some information for this new job of hers. She figured the only problem would be to escape after having assassinated the klingon ambassador since to get to him wouldn’t be to difficult, now, that she had taken the identity of some Starfleet officer to be her own…
Das Kapitel is damit noch nicht vorbei, jetzt würde eigentlich erst die Richtige Handlung auf DS9 beginnen, aber kann in einem Post wohl nich mehr als 10000 Zeichen verwenden und nen sollte man lieber lassen, also, falls ihr wissen wollt wies weiter geht müsst ihr wohl hierauf antworten ^^"
Wenn sie euch gefällt werde ich natürlich sofort mehr davon posten, aber ich dachte zunächst reicht der Anfang, da die Story noch nicht ganz beendet ist. Ich denke das werde ich in näherer Zukunft aber wohl schaffen, es fehlen nur noch etwa 3 Kapitel, bisher hab ich sechs Stück zum posten bereit, Nummer 7 ist in Arbeit
Also lasst mich wissen wie es euch gefällt, viel Spaß bei "The Changing Face of Evil"
PS: Die Story hat nichts mit der gleichnamigen Folge zu tun
PPS: Ihr fragt euch vllt warum ich mich entschieden habe die Fanfiction auf Englisch zu schreiben, die Antwort ist denkbar einfach: Ich hab schwierigkeiten Science-Fiction auf Deutsch zu schreiben, da mir die Begriffe fehlen. Ich hab z.B. DS9 nie auf Deutsch gesehn
Also wenn ihr fehler findet weißt mich drauf hin, ich versuch immer mein englisch zu verbessern The Changing Face of Evil
Rating: R-16
Genre: Thriller, Science-Fiction
Based on: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Timeframe: 2373 (5th season)
Chapter 1: Khitomer
A terrible smell, a mix of alcohol and smoke filled the air of the small pub called ‘The Wreck’ which lived up to its name. The dim light of a few bare bulbs was barley lighting the smoky room but it was enough to see where you were going which obviously satisfied everyone. The pub was relatively crowded for its standards at this time of the day which happened to be the evening, about 10 pm. Some of the guests sat at small tables playing cards, others sat at the bar starring into their synthale and keeping to themselves. There was another smell next to that of the cigarettes and the drinks, it was the smell of opportunity how a Ferengi would call it. It didn’t seem as if the pub was favoured by a special species, it was a colorful mix of all this quadrant had to offer. Klingons, Breen, Andorians, Cardassians, Orions, even Romulans and Humans but no one seemed to pay attention, they stuck to business of their own. They didn’t care for what you did or didn’t do here, you could have killed someone and if anyone asked these people about it, nobody would have seen anything. Wads of smoke were floating along her arm when she rose her cigarette to her mouth to inhale. She kept the smoke in her lungs for a moment before blowing it out again on her way towards the bar. The woman of 28 years was the only Trill in the pub and probably the youngest person here too but it didn’t really matter anyway. She was dressed in tight blue pants which were plunged into black boots that reached almost up to her knees. Together with the thin jacket in the same blue with a wide neckline over a black top, it seemed like a jumpsuit. The jacket was hold in place by a black belt around her waist from which a klingon d'k tahg dagger was hanging next to a phase pistol. Her black, long hair was hanging into her face so that nobody would follow her glance while she surveyed the room with her steel blue eyes. Nobody paid attention to her, nobody looked up. She pushed her hair back behind her ears when she sat down at the bar leaning forward and resting her crossed arms on it while she waited for the bartender to show up. A few minutes later he did. He happened to be a fat Orion whose best days lay behind him. He was wearing lax pants which were hanging a little bit too low in her opinion and a white, sleeveless shirt that was smudged with things she didn’t intent to identify. He was cleaning out a glass with a dirty cloth while he asked her barely understandable because of the already cold butt in his mouth: “What’dcha want, Darlin’?”
“Bloodwine.” She replied coldly before raising the cigarette to her lips.
“Haven’t got any.” He said still busy with the glass and chewing on the cigarette stub.
“Then I suggest you find me some.” She responded as coldly as before, then she stubbed out her cigarette on the bar in front of him.
“What’d I get outa it?” He wanted to know leaning forward and grinning desirously at her. She leaned forward herself until their faces were only inches apart and his grin expanded. She grabbed his shirt with on hand and hissed:
“I’ll spare your miserable, worthless life!” She threw him back against the shelf on which a lot of bottles stood that now fell to the ground and broke. “Now get me that Bloodwine!” She disgustedly watched the bartender hurrying away. Then the young woman lit herself another cigarette. She inhaled deeply and closed her eyes for a second enjoying it. Suddenly she felt something had changed, something that hadn’t been there before, someone’s presence. She grabbed the hand that was reaching for her shoulder, kicked its owner in the guts und threw the person onto the ground, pressing her d’k tahg against his throat.
“I can see you haven’t changed a bit.” The romulan male noted. He was dressed in a long black rope that covered most of his other clothes. The hood had been thrown back during the short fight exposing his pointed ears and black hair. She let him go and watched how he got to his feet and continued: “Don’t get me wrong, never would I have recognized you from the looks but your behaviour hasn’t changed neither have your skills.”
“What are you here for, business or pleasure?” She wanted to know. The cold expression on her face didn’t change.
“I didn’t realize there was a difference as far as you are concerned.” He stroked over her cheek along the spots. “I must say I like your new appearance, that surgeon of yours did a damn fine job… as always as I recall.” She didn’t move at all and ignored his tough before she asked:
“What is it you want?”
“I got a job for you.” He answered after a short moment and pulled his hand back. She sat back down and noticed displeased that her cigarette had fallen on the ground when she had overwhelmed the Romulan. She took her time while lighting a new one, meanwhile the bartender returned with the Bloodwine she had ordered disappearing as fast again as he showed up.
“You know my price.” She said blowing out the smoke.
“I do.” He agreed not caring to take a seat. “A hundred bars of gold-pressed Latinum, fifty now, another when the job is done.” He picked up a black case that he had left a few meters away before he had approached her and put it on the bar next to her. She didn’t even take a look at it but said:
“I’m glade we could come to an agreement. Now tell me about that job of yours.”
“The Klingon ambassador to Earth, make it look like the humans did it, so that hell breaks loose between the Empire and the Federation.” She took a sip of the wine noticing satisfied that it tasted just fine.
“A week. Maybe two.” She replied then calmly.
“Very well.” He nodded. “If you need certain information contact me, the Tal Shiar will provide you with everything you need to know about the subject.” When she didn’t reply anything he turned to leave. He was already on his way out when she said:
”Isn’t it ironic? On the same planet the treaty between Klingons and Federation had been signed all that that will destroy it starts.” He didn’t walk on but didn’t come back either, he just responded:
“It isn’t all ironic, more like predestined, Khitomer will soon burn again.”
The streets of this village without a name on the surface of Khitomer were dark and empty at night. Everyone who lived here was either a searched criminal or on the best way to become one. But after all the Klingon Empire wasn’t as thorough about keeping every colony in perfect shape as for example the Federation was which only suited these people. This was the perfect place to hide if you don’t want anyone to come close to you. It was foggy this night in the village when she made her way through the small, dirty avenues carrying a case full of Latinum. It didn’t take her long to get to the apartment of hers she used when she was here which happened to be rare since she was often on ‘business trips’. When she entered she first threw the case onto the coach in the living room. Then sat down next to it and took another case from beneath the small table in front of it to set up a portable computer system. She needed to get some information for this new job of hers. She figured the only problem would be to escape after having assassinated the klingon ambassador since to get to him wouldn’t be to difficult, now, that she had taken the identity of some Starfleet officer to be her own…
Das Kapitel is damit noch nicht vorbei, jetzt würde eigentlich erst die Richtige Handlung auf DS9 beginnen, aber kann in einem Post wohl nich mehr als 10000 Zeichen verwenden und nen sollte man lieber lassen, also, falls ihr wissen wollt wies weiter geht müsst ihr wohl hierauf antworten ^^"
