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Wed Sep 12th, 2018 @ 2:14am

Deacon Kane

Name Deacon Kane

Position Infiltration Specialist

Character Information

Gender Male
Species Rigellian (Vulcanoid)
Age 67
Sexuality Hetero

Physical Appearance

Height 5'8
Weight 190 lbs
Hair Color Black
Eye Color Violet (Light purple)
Physical Description Deacon is a dark skinned vulcanoid, relatively short for his race. Shaves most of his head, leaving a short/medium height mohawk with the front dyed whatever color strikes his fancy that week, wears a "Van Dyke" style short beard.

Has tattoos on the back of his neck and arms

He has four sets of scars on his shoulder caused by close,,,,,,,,hand to hand combat with a Klingon,,,,,,,sort of

Clothes are a miss match of whatever he finds or makes, Has a Gorn Armored longcoat he's very proud of


Father Traven
Mother Mika
Brother(s) 3 brothers, 2 half-brothers
Sister(s) 2 sisters, 2 half-sisters
Other Family Great Uncle De'Kaye
Countless cousins

Personality & Traits

General Overview Deacon's Mantra

"In high seas or low seas,
I'm gonna be your friend,,,,,
Said, high tide or low tide,
I'll be by your side"

Deacon just is.

Quick with a smile, Quick with a smoke.
Will get you to sing, get you to dance, get you to laugh.
He'll share a drink, share a sigh, share a cry
The biggest type-B, type-A personality you will ever meet
Keeps his mind on his sleeve, but has a history of taking off his shirt

Deacon Just Is
Strengths & Weaknesses - He's smart, but struggles to be wise
- He'll listen, but expects to be heard
- He tends to live in his head, then live in his heart, then struggles to understand why people don't
- He see the universe as a mystery, full of infinite diversity but expects kindness and moral certainty
With those he trusts and loves
- Betrayal is a perversity, which he needs to crush mercilessly, but then how can he keep his humanity

Sometimes he's a contraction even to himself.
As to where the strengths and weakness lies
Look at this list and you must decide
For Yourself
What is strength one day is weakness the next.
Where it ultimately is,
No one can guess
Ambitions - To travel, see as many things and meet as many people as he can.
- To find the right person who won't put up with all his crap.
- To convince that poor unfortunate soul to marry his sorry ass.
- To travel the stars together dancing, arguing and loving till they've had enough
- To settle own near an ocean, fish, and fix engines.
- To have a litter of kids, change diapers, and kiss cuts all better
- To love them and teach them how to live
- To Fill their heads with music, laughter, nonsense and wanderlust.
- To smack them on their collective bottoms and send them on their own adventures, with a smile.
- To worry about them until they come home.
Hobbies & Interests Sketching people
Sing and dance
Plays music
Soccer (Football)

Personal History To look at Deacon, most would see a Vulcan or maybe a Romulan. At least until he acknowledged them with a broad smile and a wink. He is a vulcanoid not of Vulcan, born on Rigel V, the most wonderfully diverse, chaotic, and contradictory planets of the Federation. The planet having the distinction of being admitted UPF no less than three times after being expelled twice due to, as his great uncle De’Kaye put it, “conflicting opinions of Jurisprudence.” When Deacon said he didn’t understand, De’kaye laughed and said that his was a people of pirates, smugglers and circus folk, and that old habits died hard. When Deacon complained that it still didn’t make much sense to him his uncle would muss is hair saying that confusion was good, it meant the young boy had a good handle on what was really going on. De’Kay would then cuff his nephew and tell him to get back to work. For in clan Kane, “Work was Life.”

In the dry seasons, Deacon and his cousins would work his uncle’s saltpan, Saline Nuave, which he built after his walkabout among the stars. They extracted the salt from seawater, by the time-honored process of using sun and wind to evaporate the water. It probably doesn’t sound like much, but what is life without a little salt? Especially for his people’s self-imposed low-tech lifestyle, the salt provided a way to cure leather and meat in his clan’s stockyards as well as salt the fish their mariners brought out of the sea. It was here Deacon worked, earning himself deeply bronzed skin and broad shoulders from the strenuous labor under the burning sun.

In the rainy seasons, he either worked the fields or collected Orion wing slugs and pohewa (dream) salamanders in the nearby mangrove forest. The fields were great for talking with his friends and trying to impress girls with how much he could carry. The second was tedious work, where Deacon learned to be fast, having to net the slugs before the flew to high in the trees, or the salamanders before they dove into the swampy quagmire. It was messy work and the slime from each would raise blisters on expose skin. Here he could earn bragging rights by collecting the most bushels of the annoying creatures. As a fringe benefit, the “hunters” would have to scrape and scrub each other clean to get the stench off themselves, and there were pretty girls who worked the tracts as well and to be honest much better than Deacon.

Now Deacon was not some poor abused soul, who worked torturous hours under grueling conditions. He just worked hard jobs, no different from anyone else in the clan. It was life, and not all was drudgery. “In life, you work, then you beat the drum,” his uncle would say. And Deacon learned how to beat the drum; singing and dancing in the cool nights, laughing and as he got older, ending up in the arms of the warm and willing. But that was the way of youth and in the Kane clan, childhood didn’t last forever. Deacon came of age, and as such he became a trade item for his clan.

Any clan member who was not in the matriarch’s direct line, was eligible for the Hoko, the Great Barter. During a Hoko, all the clan leaders met, in person or over the interlink, to trade their “extra” people, usually for other people but sometimes for goods or services. This is usually when the good citizens of the UPF scream “SLAVERY!!!” and look at the Rigellian vulcanoids as a collection of knuckle dragging barbarians. However, for Deacon’s people it was just being practical. The clans existed in isolated pockets all over the planet. A clan, by definition, is a group of people that are related to one another. The Hoko was just a way to combat inbreeding within this extended family. Besides, the e’Hoko (the traded) had extensive protections and rights under clan law. For example, both of Deacon’s parents were traded to different clans, but he was able to visit them or they him, they just lived with different extended families. Over time they started new families of their own and Deacon grew to know and love all his half-brothers and half-sisters just as deeply as his full brothers and sisters.

Now the Hoko was not confined to the clans themselves, occasionally an e’Hoko would be used to help seal a business deal with the outside world. This was the case for Deacon. His hoko involved the desperate smuggler and eight barrels of powdered hope his uncle concocted. It happened one early morning in the late summer. His uncle called him down the quay, where he found a small cargo ship, a smaller alien he pretty sure was a Ferengi and a mountain of an Orion. Deacon smiled at the Orion, his name was Toti, a friend from his uncle’s walkabout days. The Ferengi called himself Captain Praza, and seemed to be sizing Deacon up with a critical eye. De’Kaye said their boat had stalled and asked Deacon to take a look. It took less than five minutes to track down the problem and get the engine purring. As he stepped back onto the quay he saw the Ferengi grudgingly give his uncle a short stack silver scudo’s. Wiping his hands, Deacon then asked why the captain sabotaged his own engine. A look of disbelief crossed Paza’s face as the Orion tapped him on his shoulder and held out his massive paw. Muttering something about being cheated, the captain handed Toti a gold scudo, and said that he guessed the boy would do.

His uncle explained later that he and Praza had struck a deal to trade in their “Hupyrian beetle snuff,” which of course totally lacked so much as a milligram of Hupyrian beetles. Instead it was made from powered wing slugs and the secretions from the pohewa. They both knew the powder wasn’t real, but they figured it could at least be pawned it off on the Klingons for a decent profit. Praza lacked the funds to buy into the venture as a full partner so he agreed to take on Toti as his engineer and apprentice Deacon on the ins and outs of running a cargoship for the next five years. Deacon couldn’t believe his luck.

For as long as he could remember, his uncle had been telling Deacon stories of his time on walkabout; the things he saw, the things he’d done. Now Deacon had a chance to see and do those things for himself, he jumped at the chance. Of course, when his saw Praza’s ship Deacon wanted to jump right back into the swamp with the wing slugs. Praza’s “Latinum Queen” was an old decrepit Orion freighter, that would have been considered obsolete a hundred year ago. It was only then Deacon realized what kind of throw of the dice his uncle was making. “Work is life,” so Deacon made the best of it. It took the over six weeks to get ‘the Queen’ space worthy. Even then, they struggled to make warp 3.2 as the entered Klingon space. They barely making their rendezvous with Paza’s contacts, the Lartic sisters, Ejav, Edist and Acheth which proved to be the most instructive of negotiations. While infinitely successful, it resulted in two cracked ribs, multiple scrapes and contusions along with four distinct bites along his left shoulder, BLOOD WAS DRAWN. Thinking back, Deacon would remember the experience as both terrifying and sublime, but that’s a story for another day.

After establishing the "Beetle snuff" connection, Deacon had suddenly found himself elevated to the status of Praza’s good luck charm. Jobs came one after the other along with a steady stream of latinum. For the next five years Deacon worked like he never had before stretching his brains as much as his back. He absorbed everything he could like a sponge. Praza taught him how to make contacts, negotiate contracts, and when deals went sidewards, how to make tracks. He worked; as his loadmaster in the cargo hold, as his pilot a ship threading 'the Queen' through the crowded traffic around the spaceports, and as his navigator plotting courses that would burn the least fuel. At the end of his apprenticeship he found a genuine surprise, a job offer from Praza. For eight more years he stayed with ‘The Queen’ first as her XO, then when Praza bought a second ship, ‘Latinum Star,’ Deacon became her ‘Captain and Trade Negotiator’. A promotion that would change the course of the Rigellian’s life, but not in the way he expected.

The Ferengi took over the trade routes he and Deacon established leaving the newly minted Captain to ply the outer edge of Federation space and the unclaimed territories, to establish new trade routes and contacts. All that was required was to be able to slip past Federation security nets to make it successful And he was successful, though a successful what was always open to interpretation; A Successful merchant? A Successful smuggler? After one particularly narrow escape from a determined Federation patrol ship, he found himself given the opportunity to be considered something else, a successful spy.

This ‘opportunity; came from a strange little Tellorite, calling himself “Mr. White” who met him at the dock one day with Praza, who was wearing a set of binders. It seemed that the Ferengi was caught selling a shipment of Tholian silks, that had somehow bypassed Federation customs. Mr. White was very interested in meeting the captain that had delivered the contraband into the Ferengi’s hands, especially after that Captain evaded three patrol cutters that were actively looking for him. After dinner and drinks, Praza found himself without binders and Deacon the owner of a small unimpressive import/export company, that came with a VERY unofficial Warrant Officer’s commission from Starfleet intelligence. Of course, with his new company, he had to give up ‘The Queen” and all she meant to him, instead ‘Mr. White’ provided him a modified MV-167 Orion Scout, Deacon christened ‘Arethusa.’ Though lightly armed and armored she was fast and maneuverable at both warp and sub-light speed, boasting a profile and tritanum hull, making her almost invisible to most sensors. Her own sensor suite boasted some of the most advanced Romulan instrumentation that could be found outside of the Tal’Shiar R&D Labs.

It was this ship and Deacon’s talent that ‘Mr. White’ wanted to use for his exclusive charters in places, like the Mutara sector where the Arethusa became almost infamous in playing tag with both Klingon and Cardassian patrol ships and sneaking past listening stations, taking readings on the different bases the powers had setup in the area. These charters were interesting to say the least , until Deacon was able to establish himself as bonifide smuggler, bringing exotic items such as Romulan ale and beetle snuff to the Klingons and Reglian liquid crystals and aged Kannar to the Cardassian forces. His handler suggested he start smuggling addictive drugs, such as Maraji, though Deacon refused, not wanting to inflict unnecessary suffering and knowing if he gain a reputation of smuggling those things many of his contacts would dry up or even turn against him.

As a result of Deacon’s careful charade, he was able to culture many contacts on both sides that provided him with information about patrols and troop movements that allowed him to ‘work’ transporting good throughout the sector, information that proved invaluable to Starfleet Intelligence. In the oddest twist of fate, he was also approached by both the Cardassian Intelligence Bureau and the Klingon Intelligence Service to spay for them. In the end he was able to give both sides enough real and fabricated information to keep their forces in check. After four years, Mr. White arranged for Deacon to be ‘arrested’ in with a load of Rigellian Flamegems, serving eighteen months in a penal colony on LB23 – IV on the far reaches of Federation space. While in prison, tempers flared between the Klingons and Cardassians in a small but vicious border war broke out in Mutara.

He honestly wept, watching news of the conflict, knowing may of his assets and their families were most likely dying. Deaths he worked for years to prevent, but in the back of his mind he wondered if all he did was put each side in a position to inflict maximum damage on eachother. After each sides strength had been spent, the Federation sent a fleet of ships in as a ‘Peace Keeping Force’ to reclaim the Mutara sector for themselves. In the counseling sessions at the colony, Deacon began to express a suspicion that he was only pulled from the field because his handlers feared he had ‘gone native,’ and would be less than enthusiastic if asked to spark the conflict, or at least just stand by as the brutality unfolded. When aske what would he have done if he had remained in place, he could never find an honest answer, which for some of his supervisors was answer enough.

When he was released from prison, he found he had a new handler, Mr. Green, an Orion. Deacon always got the impression that the intelligence agent was given that moniker as something as an insult. He was assigned back to the old grind as a ‘smuggler’ sneaking through the Federations security nets, to set up trade routes. Except now it was in the backwaters of the unclaimed territories. After only a couple of months Deacon came to understand that ‘Mr. Green’ felt being chained to a burnt out operative, like himself, was a punishment. Not the Rigellian care much, Deacon did his best knowing that he tenure with Intelligence would soon be ending. Of course, his ‘exit’ would come as just as much a shock as his initial recruitment.

The exit happened in a backwater system called Janos. All Deacon had to do was pull a flyby past Janos III to make sure nobody was enslaving the locals, a planetary survey had detected dylithium deposits on the planet along with a pre-warp civilization. A quick in and out. Deacon told himself. Then it would have been of the the Gradin Confederation to enjoy some wine with the Romulan expats that took up residence on Gradin VI. He came out of warp about 20 light seconds from the planet and began the proscribe survey run when he ran into cloaked mine, seemingly right in his path. When he came too, the smell was what told him he was no longer on the Arethusa. Opening his eyes he found himself on a Klingon Privateer with several ‘old friends’ from Mutara. It was an eventful meeting that ended with Deacon on the surface of Janos III, the victor of sorts, surrounded by three still forms of the newly honored dead.

Looking up in the night sky, Deacon sighed as he buried those he knew and loved, knowing in the end he was able to give them something back that he had taken from them. He also knew he’d been burned, sold out, and if it took him a hundred years he’d find a way off this mudball and find out who put him here.
Service Record 2349 - 2354: Apprentice, Ferengi Trader Latinum Queen under Captain Praza
2355 - 2361: Executive Officer, Ferengi Trader 'Latinum Queen' under Captain Praza
2361 - 2367: Captain and Trade Negotiator, Ferengi Trader 'Latinum Queen'
2367 - 2367: Recruited Starfleet Intelligence as a NOC (non-official cover) agent
2367 - 2371: Owner Operation IFS Imports, Mutara Sector, Handler White - 4668 - D5
2371 - 2372: Penal Colony LB23 – IV, Debrief, Assessment and Reassignment
2372 - 2373: Owner Operation IFS Imports, Unclaimed Territories, Handler Green - 0038 - A6
2373 - 2395: Listed MIA assumed KIA
2395: Found Janos III, USS Valiant