“Ripples in the Cloak”

Posted on Tue Apr 15th, 2025 @ 1:29pm by Daise'Arrain Calin tr'Rhenn & Erien Seren Gemini (Kelea-Salik) & Daise'Arrain Olmex Thikoho [Reece] & Daise'Erei'Riov Thomas Pierpoint & Riov Vrihaek tr'Saethan

Mission: Season 6: Echoes of the Zynari
Location: GSN Havrah, Cloaked — Shadowing the USS Elysium
Timeline: MD 2, 0430 Hours
860 words - 1.7 OF Standard Post Measure

Perspective: New Riov- Riov Vrihaek ir'Katra tr'Saethan

Even cloaked, the Havrah breathed with life and precision—an instrument of quiet power and waiting wrath.

Its commander, Riov Vrihaek ir'Katra tr'Saethan, stood at the fore of the bridge, hands clasped behind his back, eyes locked on the pale silhouette of the USS Elysium drifting a few light-seconds ahead. Trapped as they were in the Circinus Galaxy, their mission had become one of shadows and patience.

He had accepted this exile—temporary, of course—with a Romulan's pride. But his pride was beginning to fray.

“Status of the cloak?” Vrihaek asked, his voice sharp and clipped.

“Stable,” replied Sub-Commander Neral at Tactical. “All readings nominal. The Elysium has not detected our presence.”

“Yet.” Vrihaek's gaze narrowed. “Continue passive scans.”

The bridge was silent for nearly two minutes before a soft, irregular flicker passed across a sensor console—then another. Faint bursts of... color?

“Sensor ghost?” Neral frowned. “Or interference from the nebula trails.”

“Neither,” muttered Centurion Saevin at Engineering. “It’s too... rhythmic.”

Vrihaek said nothing, but already he was uneasy. Romulans did not believe in spirits. They believed in precision, in facts, in advantage. Whatever this was, it was not natural.

________________________________________
It began slowly. As all subversions do.

The first report came from the mess hall. A junior officer swore that when he opened a storage drawer, it was filled with feathers. Green. Iridescent. They vanished upon touch.

Another claimed her disruptor pistol played a soft chime each time it was drawn.

And then, during night rotation, the lights in the primary turbolift began to pulse in patterns resembling Morse—but not in any known Romulan code. The pulses danced, fluctuating in color, almost playful.

“Explain this,” Vrihaek demanded when the report reached him.

No one could.
________________________________________

By 1800 hours, the Havrah had become a playground.

Though cloaked and silent, the warbird’s internal order was unraveling.

Chief Medical Officer Calin tr'Rhenn had just completed a diagnostic scan of the biobed systems when she noticed the medkit supplies had reordered themselves. Alphabetically. Not a single item was missing, but every label had been changed—to classical Rihannsu poetry.

When she informed Vrihaek, the Riov scowled. “And you found this amusing?”

Calin raised a brow. “Mildly. But more curious than amusing.”

“Whatever this is—it's infiltrated our systems without triggering a single alarm.”

“Then perhaps it is not a system we should be watching,” Calin said quietly. “But a presence.”

________________________________________

That night, Vrihaek retired to his private quarters to meditate and think. He found the lights already dimmed, ambient noise set to mimic the wind through Trelanis Valley—a setting he hadn't used since he was a boy.

His desk terminal blinked. A message had been typed but not sent.

"Even in your silence, your shadow speaks loudly."

"Why do you follow when you could dance?"

Vrihaek's jaw tightened. He dismissed the message, but not before he saw a soft shimmer curl around the edge of his desk—a swirling line of emerald mist in the vague shape of a fox’s tail. Then it was gone.

________________________________________
The next day, crew began behaving... differently.

Officers paused mid-sentence, eyes darting to corners as if something had moved. Others reported that their chairs reoriented themselves. Coffee dispensers filled with fruit nectar instead. The engines hummed in a different key.

And—most disturbingly—laughter. Not loud, not mocking. Gentle. Echoing just faintly enough to unsettle the Romulan sense of control.

“They are testing us,” Vrihaek said to Calin in the Medbay, watching a stethoscope float an inch above a biobed. “We are a new toy.”

“Then perhaps it’s time to stop pretending we are not in their playroom.”

________________________________________
Down in the Marine Armory, Olmex had just finished verifying the status of his unit's weapons. The computer had been giving him false reports about several items having gone missing. However, after his careful inspection, every disruptor, launcher, munition, even battle knives and armor, were all completely accounted for. He realized that, whatever these beings, which had started to be talked about in whispers, that were mov8ng around tge ship effecting systems, did not seem to be wanting to cause any major issues. It felt to him, that they were simply acting as if they were children, wishing to play harmless practical jokes. While it could be very annoying to deal with the fallout, Olmex didn't see any reason to pay them any heed so far. If they ignored the beings, they would go away.

———————————————————————————————-
In the brig Seren was a captive audience for the playful beings, when her food arrived her plate would move from place to place around the cell, and she never felt like she was alone. The feeling of being watched all the time was starting to get annoying as they also disturbed her sleep.

In the adjoining cell, Thomas laid on the cell bed. his eyes closed as he listened to the antics the 'spirits' were playing on Seren. he had not been immune to their attention as he had his blanket pulled short and his coffee cup floated just out of reach as faint laughter could be heard.

OFF