Last post by Krajin - [ Dominic Winters | Pilot’s Locker Rooms | Vector 2 | Deck 16 | ATTN: @joshs1000
Dominic made his way through the corridor leading to the Pilot’s locker room, needing to plunder his locker for one reason or another. The interlude they had was not to be squandered as it was only a matter of time before they had to go into the next battle and he had no idea when that was. He loved to fight out there, do battle with a thinking foe that could try and outsmart you or get lucky with a shot that might end things. It was the challenge that helped everyone grow and become someone or something new, stronger, better.
When the door hissed open, Dominic had not expected to find anyone else inside the Locker room and paused when he felt something being… off in there. His hand slipped to the phaser pistol and slowly, shifted to stalk his way into the room and look around. Dom’s pupils dilated to let in all the light they could as he near-silently stalked his way through until he spied the moving, wet tail of Lok. Dominic paused a moment and figured he’d play it cool for now. He had seen the damage done to the lockers of the flight deck crew and they were rather crispy so he was not going to judge someone who was running the flight deck needing a shower. He figured he might of been heard with the suit’s servos or not being so quiet in sneaking in. But if he hadn’t, Dom tapped his larger locker with a hand to let the other know he was present.
“Enjoying yourself in there?” He asked with a slight teasing tone to his voice.
The hulking yet svelte armored suits moved down the corridor pensively as they kept a watch out for potential ambushes. It was the nature of the business, but it was also one that Ida silently cursed in her mind as her team stalked the alloy hallways. There were two sets of infiltrators on the ship. The never be sufficient damned House Mo'kai had gotten their people in and loose on the ship. The other was the thrice damned Tal'Shiar. At least she thought they were. Professional, stealthy, and deadly. Even with Thea, it was proving difficult to reconstruct who had actually killed the Chief of Security since both species were technically stronger than the human and he's been taken unawares.
The ship was shaking under multiple impacts as the team advanced and crew members moved to and fro dealing with their battle station responsibilities. This made the situation hectic for the group monitoring their surroundings while lines of fire were constantly being blocked. There was a chirp in the Deputy's ear. "Lt. zh'Wann." Thea began, though much less intoned, cold even. "There are anomalous heat signatures moving on decks 6. They're not going too quickly and seem to be sticking to the Jefferies tubes." That seemed to track and Zark's voice chimed in. "Makes sense. Big Klingons, small access ways. I think they're going to try to storm engineering and breach the core. They could also wreack havoc against the engineers in there." Ida nodded minutley. "I concur. I'm headed there now and will be in place to fend them off in two minutes. Alert the security team there and give them a likely exit locus."
"Acknowledged." Zark came back quickly. There was a pause where Lt. zh'wann expected the medic to close the comm frequency, but instead the line stayed open. "Hold on, we just got a solid confirm on Romulan life signs nearby. One of them is fluctuating wildly. Looks like a trauma response. Kino is on her way to investigate. Will update when I have more information."
Lt. zh'Wann could feel her antennae try to shoot up at the unexpected news. What was going on, who had gotten the infiltrator? Was it a trap? The Deputy considered comming the Petty Officer to tell her to be careful, but she shook away the notion knowing the experienced NCO would do that automatically. This was not a time to micromanage. Instead, the Andorian opened a comm frequency to her team "Full speed to engineering. Hopefully we can get the Klingons to surrender before they exit and do damage." It was possibly wishful thinking about getting them to surrender, but the Deputy knew she had to try.
[Shohlogh G'gedh | Deck 6 | Vector 01 | The Helmet | USS Theurgy]
He was by no means small, and that made their current situation worse as he trailed behind his three other comrades snaking their way through the cramped maintenance tubes on board the grethor damned Starfleet vessel. Still, he didn't complain. He would take his vengeance against the interlopers that had brought shame down upon his house. If they hadn't interfered, then Mo'kai would have been victorious and House G'gedh would have been elevated in their fued against House Mnath. Never mind they were both very minor houses, the fued had gone back over a millennia and Mnath had sided with the existing regime under Martok.
Unfortunatley G'gedh had been crushed and their holdings absorbed into Mnath, and as much as it disgusted the third son of G'gedh to be slinking in the shadows instead of facing his enemies face to face, eye to eye with cold steel; this was a necessary part of his vengeance. Still, there would be enough alien blood to be spilled soon when they got to the engineering section of the ship. There had been that one blonde woman they thought was a human, but had turned out to be a Bajoran. She'd been taken unawares and he's savoured her subdued meep of surprise when his burly arms had encircled her neck and head. Not a sound had escaped as he massive hands had covered her mouth. She'd barely even struggled and he's only gotten a whiff of the terror that had over taken the woman before he'd felt her neck satisfyingly snap. It would have been better if he'd been able to plunge his dagger into her body and watch the life bleed out of her, but the group had larger goals.
Thoughts of vengeance stopped for a moment and the Klingon gagged as the stench of someone venting noxious silent flatulence in a confined space and a chorus of silent filthy curses followed, though the offender instead hissed then chuckled at the misfortune of his fellows. It took some more crawling and they were past the hideous fumes to the point where thoughts of vengeance could reassert themselves. Soon. Soon, the shame of house extinction would be wiped away in a glorious fireball that would signal to the universe that he had taken vengeance and he could recount his tale in the halls of Sto-Vo-Kor. He was certain of it.
[IRS Vas'deletham | The battle in the Triangle....]
The lumbering carrier manoeuvred far more smartly than her size and bulk would give credit for as Commander Borroso ordered the large ship into an evasive pattern. The ship shook under a few hits, but it was less than what could have been in store as most of the plasma torpedoes flew harmlessly passed. One squadron of fighters formed up on each flank, fending off other attackers, or engaging some of the slower moving torpedoes. The Commander looked at the tactical display, looking to discern a pattern in the battle. Too many ships were moving too and fro, but there had to be a key to the whole battle. Something that would cause mass confusion in the ranks.
Then his mind saw it. It was a small thing, but very easy to miss given the colour codes used to denote friend and foe. There was one symbol that stood out. The Federation starship. There appeared to be a bubble around the ship that made any attacks difficult. Maybe other ships were protecting it, but the amount of firepower it was putting out was impressive. The Klingons were Federation allies the Commander mused. Maybe destroying that ship would cease the reason for the Klingons to be here. That didn't matter though, it was a threat that needed to be dealt with.
Commander Borroso acted. "Comm! Get me the Raalar wing! I want those Valdores to punch us a hole towards the Starfleet vessel." The commander next turned to the tactical station. "Launch the reserve squadron and have them form up behind Raalar. They'll lead the strike in and we'll follow them. Standby to focus all forward batteries on the eneny." The tactical officer nodded and moved to turn the Commander's intentions into action. Commander Borroso then turned towards his marine commander. "Centurion, when we have knocked down their shields, standby to board and seize the Federation vessel." The Centurion gave a predatory smile and gave a salute then turned to leave the ridge to organize his forces.
The carrier commander turned his attention back to the tactical display to watch his plan unfold and make any more adjustments. His eye caught the first change to his plans too late and the ship rocked as a quartet of Klingon Birds of Prey swooped in from the aft quarter and unleashed a withering barrage of disruptors and torpedoes in a high speed pass. The bridge shook violently as the shields did their best to weather the storm, but bleed through was inevitable and sparks exploded as several conduits vented their abuse. "Four Klingon Warbirds coming in from 263 mark negative 85. Hull damage to the port aft and port impulse engines!" It would seem Commander Borroso's master plan would need some time before it would come to fruition.
The group of Vaharrans made quite a contrasting sight to the Starfleet personnel around them. While the aliens were dressed in their simple but sleek uniforms, the colored collars of their shirts denoting their department, the Vaharrans of the Arosan Marines were decked to the nines in their combat gear: body armor, helmets, worn fatigues, a myriad of pouches, belts, and each with a large pistol strapped to their hip. Sure Starfleet had its own forms of combat gear but probably not since the MACOs of the 22nd century did it look anything like what their new guests carried. A bit more on the militarily provocative side of things that many in Starfleet, even the crew of the Theurgy, would be comfortable with, but since the security teams were critically low on personnel due to losses, the big brutish looking Marines were a welcome relief.
“We are just waiting on Specialist al-Kara to bring the E-46 ammunition, Commander”, Lieutenant al-Drakani reported as he and Hassar entered the transporter room with the gratherd group of about a dozen marines, including themselves.
“Very well”, Hassar responded, “I just gave Lieutenant al-Feena his orders so I’d say we are good to telepo- er…transport over to the other part of the ship.”
Hassar was not thrilled to leave Al-Feena in charge, he was rather green and had only ever worked planetside; a capable warrior and good at following orders, he seemed to lack the decisiveness required for a leader, but there was always a chance to rise to the occasion. Plus he had his best NCO with him, Chief Specialist al-Zanak, he would keep things on track if Al-Feena couldn’t handle it.
Hassar, meanwhile, would be taking a contingent of his marines to what the Theurgycrew called “Vector 1” or “The Helmet”; Theurgy, as he learned, could separate into three ships. Truly advanced but made little sense to him, it was best, in his mind and the minds of Vaharran tactical thinkers, that a ship should have its firepower centralized on a strong hull. Granted this was thought of centuries ago long before things like shields or energy weapons were a thing for his people. Either way he had a job to do, support the Starfleet security personnel there and specifically free some from guard duty over the ship’s main computer core which housed some sort of highly advanced AI system. Reports were that an infiltrator had tried to sabotage it earlier but was defeated, however, there were concerns that the Romulans knew of their AI system and would try to board the ship and destroy it in the midst of the large battle that they were gearing up for. Hence Hassar’s Marines. The Vaharrans made sure to pack for it, a heavy gun, some corridor barriers, and thousands of rounds of extra ammunition.
Finally, Specialist al-Kara arrived lugging two large cases of E-46 ammo, where he was then directed to set them with the rest of the equipment on the transporter pad. Satisfied, Hassar turned to the group, who warily looked at the glowing alcove. Sensing their apprehension, he even had some himself, he smiled and stopped up onto the elevated platform and said, “Don’t worry it will be quick and easy.”
“Are you sure it’s not going to hurt”, one of the Marines asked accompanied by nods of agreement from the rest of the gathered group.
“It’ll be fine, you don’t feel anything, it’s just a bunch of blue static and some sound and then you are in the other place…trust me I’ve done this dozens of times”, Hassar responded.
“I always found it helped to just close my eyes and take a deep breath”, the Starfleet transporter chief chimed in with a shrug as she patiently waited for the uneasy Marines to get up the courage to go.
“Fine I’ll go first”, came the deep booming voice of Specialist al-Ahnad. He was quite tall and muscular, even for a Vaharran, and was known for his crude humor as well as being a tough soldier. He stepped up next to Hassar and added while making a lewd gesture towards his crotch, “So long as all this is put back where it belongs, we’ll be good.”
The Marines laughed as the tension was eased, the transporter chief just smirked and rolled her eyes as she started to prep the pad for beaming. Three other Marines joined Hassar on the pad, a couple of them closed their eyes in anticipation.
[Transporter Room 2, this is Transporter Room Three, beaming the first group of Marines over now], the chief reported over the comms then with a few taps of her console she slowly wiped her fingers up the controls to energize the beam. Hassar’s vision was filled with sparkling blue static for a moment only for it to just as quickly dissipate and reveal a similar room but without his Marines and a different Starfleet alien at the controls. Behind him he could hear the sighs of relief from the Marines that had joined him, Al-Ahnad chuckled to himself but was very quick to practically hop off the transporter pad, lest it somehow beam him again.
Once everyone was beamed over, the Marines and their equipment made their way to the corridor that led to the AI computer core and started to set up their equipment. The main showpiece, as it were of the Vaharran defense, was their twenty millimeter machine gun, setup on a standing tripod behind a portable barrier. The weapon, a KP-100, had a long history and had gone through many variations, but had become the mainstay of heavy machine guns for the Tyrosian and later Arosan militaries. It primarily fired massive slugs designed to do the maximum amount of damage possible to vehicles and equipment but also possessed the ability to fire contact detonated explosive ammunition as well as incendiaries. This powerhouse of destruction, manned by the redoubtable Al-Ahnad, was now aimed down the corridor at the T-junction at the far end. On either side of the KP-100 were portable barriers to protect the Marines armed with the standard E-46s but a couple had the automatic L-9 shotguns. Seven Marines in total, including Hassar would guard the core, the remainder of the dozen would be split up and attached to Starfleet security teams to bolster their numbers.
Plenty of firepower to deal with whatever decided to board the ship.
Last post by Ellen Fitz -
[Lt. Rhys Williams| Counsellors Offices | Deck 09 | Vector 02] attn: @Eirual
Rhys smiled, "Yes, before shift is awkward. Perhaps tomorrow, when you finish your shift." He watched her retreat for a moment before calling out, halting her steps. "If it doesn't sound too strange, I think we could meet on the holodeck. I've found certain conversations and concepts are best had or worked out on the holodeck. Movement is key to making connections and seeing things anew."
With a confirming nod, Rhys gave the blonde another smile as he watched her leave before turning his attention to the PADDs on his deck demanding it.
Last post by Ellen Fitz -
[ Ehfva Feynri | Primary Care unit | Main Sickbay | Deck 11 | Vector 2] @Dree@Dumedion
Only when the doctor made his presence known, directing her to return to her biobed while brandishing the tri-corder, did Ehfva relinquish her hold on the younger human female. With weary steps, Ehfva shifted back to her bed and leaned against it, needing a moment before she could hoist herself atop it again. She closed her eyes to collect herself as she listened to Sasch introduce herself, likewise requesting that her parents be informed of her rescue. It would hurt to talk again, just as it’d hurt to talk on the station and ship during their rescue, but it was necessary.
Catching Sasch’s look, Ehfva did her best to respond with a reassuring smile, though it looked more like a spasming snarl. The medics onboard that Savi ship had done much to help stave off the worst of the pain of being in this partially transformed state though they’d not been able to help her shift into one for or another. But what they had done allowed her to speak more clearly, though still with discomfort, when she followed Sasch’s introduction with her own.
“Ehfva Feynri. Civilian volunteer, mate to Chief Petty Officer Keokuk.” She took a steadying breath before continuing. Now was not the time to dwell on her loss. “And Sasch is correct, Doctor Leux; what few of us were brought aboard your ship is all that’s left of the Cayuga.” Ehfva waved a hand-paw over her body. “I don’t think you can help me aside from helping me with pain. If the Savi who were aboard that ship that rescued us truly are allies, I believe only they can reverse the damage their malevolent counterparts did to me.”
Looking past the doctor to the rest of the sickbay, the rapid movements of the nursing staff as they sought to treat the wounded, Ehfva frowned.
“If you can relieve my pain,” she lifted a shaking hand-paw. “And something to stop the shaking, I would like to help. I am trained in basic Starfleet field medicine and occasionally supported the sickbay on the Cayuga.”
Lucan was just “turning the page” of the book on his PADD when the door to his makeshift brig/quarters opened and the captain with the security personnel who’d been tasked with keeping an eye on him all but fell into the room carrying something writhing. Standing from his bed, Lucan moved closer to the force field, curious at first and then beyond surprised when he realized what, or rather who, it was they were holding.
“By the winds, how –“ Lucan stopped himself from asking a question no one was presently capable of answering.
It didn’t really matter at this point how they’d managed to apprehend the Praetor and drag her aboard the Allegiant. What mattered was using the kemocite cannon on her, exposing her to the transphasic light to determine if she was among the Infested or if her recent machinations had merely been born out of a militantly calculating mind bent on destruction.
“Hold her!” Ives ordered the security personnel, barely avoiding Tal’Aura’s snapping jaws as, between her howls and snarls, she tried to take a bite out of anyone and anything close.
The security personnel didn’t need to be ordered twice. Using all their combined weight and strength, they held fast as the captain retreated behind the cannon to ready it. Lucan quickly moved back to his bed, shifting to the furthest corner of it. Even when he wasn’t having an episode, probably because the parasite remained inside him feeding off his body’s energy, exposure to the light still felt like shit.
Her words were barely comprehensible as the Praetor continued to writhe against her captors while Captain Ives powered up the cannon. He recognized the evil desperation in the undertones of her voice, had heard it enough times in his nightmares, in the echoing memories of things he’d said while under the Infested’s control. As if responding to the call, Lucan imagined he felt the parasite within him give a lurch, twisting in his gut.
No. Lucan pressed a hand over his belly, scowling at the scene as it continued to unfold just outside his “cell.”
Seconds passed like hours, but mid-spittle spewing threat, the cannon fired a beam directly into the Praetor’s body, and the woman fell limp. Ives approached, wary but determined. One of the medical personnel who’d joined for this grand adventure approached at his signal, administering a hypospray with deft movements as if afraid the woman would awaken and try to take a chunk out of her at any second.
“Praetor Tal’Aura,” Captain Ives spoke evenly as the woman slowly came to, “I am Captain Ives of the USS Theurgy. Do not be alarmed. We mean you no harm.”
Lucan heard a raspy chuckle. “Then…why am I…where am I…” Tal’Aura shook her head from side to side, blinking Ives into focus. “What have you done to me?”
“We have exposed you to a device that works to subdue the parasite that was implanted within you.” Ives gestured toward Lucan. “You are not alone in acting as an unwilling host. But let this moment serve as hope that you need not continue to be used against your will.”
Tal’Aura glared at Lucan, quickly noting the forcefield with a lip curl of distaste. Returning her attention to Ives, she squared her shoulders. “I am myself, captain. Do they still need to hold me like a prisoner when you have just made claims that you mean me no harm?”
Ives took a steadying breath before giving the security personnel a subtle nod. They seemed more than a little reluctant to let go but followed orders, standing on either side of the still kneeling Romulan with their hands on their weapons, ready to draw and fire at a moment’s notice.
“Are you aware that a fleet of Romulan ships is presently speeding towards the Romulan-Klingon border to break through the Neutral Zone and commit an act of war against the Federation?”
Tal’Aura gathered her robes and rose to her full height, shorter than Ives, yet still managed to stare down her nose at him. “By whose orders?”
“Yours.”
“How is that possible?” She sounded less than convinced, pausing to glare at Lucan again as if he had a part to play in her current circumstances.
Captain Ives gave her a much-condensed version of her status as one of the Infested, of their powers and intent, calling on Lucan a time or two to share insight from one who shared in the fate of being a flesh puppet. When Tal’Aura pressed for more details on what it meant, long-term to be Infested, Lucan had felt more than a little reluctance in laying it out in plain truth to her. She didn’t strike the doctor as one who would willingly accept a life spent dwelling under the watchful eye of a kemocite cannon. Not that he relished it either, but he had more extensive experience with the ins and outs of its construction and still maintained hope that they could perfect it, maybe even find a way to eradicate the parasite altogether without ending his own life in the process.
“What do you want from me, captain?” Tal’Aura folded her hands together in front of her body, looking far more calm in the face of the current chaos than Lucan thought possible.
“Recall your fleet. Now that you know of the Infested, now that you understand you are Infested, you may understand how they benefit from the chaos outright war will bring. Their numbers will spread unchecked to a point where there is no turning back the tide. Instead of letting their duplicitous manipulations divide us from within, toppling governments and threatening alliances, let us combine forces and find a way to remove the parasites, to end them permanently.”
Tal’Aura studied the captain for some time then, a contemplative frown furrowing her ridged brow. “Allow me to contact my fleet.” Her voice held a hardened edge that tickled Lucan’s nerves.
Captain Ives nodded, stepping back slightly to gesture toward the door. “This way.”
The group left with a heavy wariness swirling about them. Lucan moved to the table where he’d left a few morsels of food and drink from his last meal. Sipping at the water, he paced the width of his cell. Something didn’t seem right, and not necessarily because of the parasite’s presence. He finished his water and was nibbling on a piece of bread when the cell door opened, and one of the engineers they’d left onboard to tinker with the cannon entered. His face was ashen, hands shaking, as he went to work double-checking the cannon.
“What has happened?”
The engineer shook his head when he looked at Lucan, a mixture of confusion and fear swirling the depths of his gaze.
“The Praetor attempted suicide while talking to her fleet commander.”
Lucan tossed his roll onto his plate and paced closer to the force field. “By the winds…what?”
“Soon after she contacted her fleet commander, they switched to visual communication, and it was then that she ordered the commander to defend Romulus to the death, no matter who the enemy was, and then she stabbed herself with a knife she’d had hidden in her robes.”
“Is she dead?”
The engineer shook his head. “I don’t know. The captain has the medical team looking at her while we wait for the last of our teams to board. I wasn’t there when it happened, but I heard he tried to continue talking to the fleet commander, but communication was severed before he could get very far.”
Lucan swore as he took a heavy seat on his bed. They’d come all this way to expose Tal’Aura to the truth, and they’d done that very thing. But they’d not managed to prevent the battle that was likely about to take place at the Triangle. Be it doubt at the truths she’d been given by Ives and Lucan or her own determined motives secret to all but herself, Tal’Aura had added fuel to the fires of chaos instead of letting a cool breeze of rationality quell them.
What now? Lucan thought to himself, allowing his head to fall back against the bulkhead and letting the engineer work silently as they mulled over recent events and their ramifications. If Tal’Aura survived her own efforts, would she be more compliant and reasonable? If she didn’t, who would take up the baton of leadership over the Romulan people? Lucan closed his eyes, pressing fingers against his temple. Of all the possible outcomes to this mission, THIS had not been one he’d pictured.
~~
[PO2 Kino Jeen | Transporter Room | Deck 1 | USS Allegiant]
She’d been falling in reverse into a black pit of oblivion, lit by the baleful energies of an unstable artificial black hole: the most dangerous and destructive force in creation. Kino knew she was dead; her mind snap-fired between outrage to acceptance, regrets and lost opportunities, then finally heartache, as she fell. No one could doubt that she'd fought the good fight – she’d tried her best. She hoped, somehow, that Reika would understand...and try to find some measure of peace, of happiness. Kino closed watering eyes, hearing naught but the wind in her ears and the snap-crackle of hyper-condensed magnetic conductors screaming in overload...then felt the detonations cook-off above, to bath her in an orange glow of heat.
I’m so sorry, Legs…
An instant later, Kino's body crashed onto the transporter pad hard enough to crack the polished surface, sending shards of glass out in ricochets in every direction. There she lay, unable to do much of anything but groan and force herself to keep breathing; which is how Chief Nilsson found her. Kino lay curled up on her side, one arm bent at an awkward angle, a mass of bruised flesh and bloody wounds.
“Shit, Kino! Easy, Jeen – easy,” she heard Nilsson’s voice, felt hands press against the worst of her injuries; the blade wound to her shoulder was a ragged hole that oozed blood in time with Jeen's pulse, but the damage done to her eye probably looked worse - a bloody, swollen mass of bruised tissue nearly cut in half. “Get her to sickbay, now,” Kino heard Nilsson bark, and more hands gripped onto her, as lucidity ebbed...
I’m gonna...pass out now, Kino’s mind murmured drunkenly, as everything faded to black.
But it didn’t last.
Awareness blared to life in an instant with a tidal wave of pain; someone was screaming her name - in warning or a plea for help – Kino wasn’t sure. A hypo stood vertical, embedded in her chest. The non-com ripped it out as she sat up and rolled out of the way of a body on instinct; it crashed onto the desk she’d been laid out on with bone-cracking force. Kino scrambled, hands clutching whatever she could for makeshift weapons: a laser-scapel, and a shard of glass.
“Hm, another plaything,” someone mused, in two distinct voices blended as one with an unmistakably wet, feminine, and sinister tone. Kino looked up in time to see a blur of movement: black hair, glowing eyes, a flow of robes – then she was held aloft by the throat – choking. “Greetings, broken fleshling,” the voice purred from the blood-stained grin of Praetor Tal’Aura. A body lay behind her on the floor in bloody pieces; torn completely in half. Dark green stains coated the cramped medical bay, filling it with the butcher house reek of slaughter. “Brace yourself. This will not be quick, nor painless,” the Praetor’s grin stretched even wider – impossibly wide – as the thing within her that rode her flesh savored the torment to come. A pale hand, dripping with green gore, filled Kino’s vision - the slightly blue-tinted one of her cybernetic eye – then the Trill managed to scream as white-hot agony filled her skull.
The Praetor’s fingers gouged, then gripped, and with a savage laugh, the infested cunt ripped the mechanical implant out of Kino's face; she even held it up like a newfound toy with a gleeful smile.
“F-Fuck. Y-you,” Jeen half screamed/half choked out, and pinioned the laser-scapel into Tal’Aura’s right ear, then drove the blade of glass into her left eye. A dark, gurgled chuckle sounded as Kino was discarded to the deck in a heap of bloody and abused limbs.
“Amusing as ever,” the Praetor giggled, then spun away from Jeen as the door to sickbay opened.
“Kill it,” Kino heard a commanding voice order, just before the room filled with phaser fire. Jeen scrambled away in a low crawl as fast as her damaged body would go, through the green-tinted lake of blood and entrails between the ripped apart body that was once the Vulcan botanist, Cir’Cie, while the Praetor laughed. Not...not Tal’Aura, Kino realized. It was the thing that had burrowed inside Tal’Aura – the thing that they’d come to find, and hopefully, stop. The Praetor’s body was being ripped apart right in front of her, burned to tatters; but the thing just kept laughing. It spread its arms wide, and took a step forward. “Behold your end,” it cackled, even as it burned into nothingness – and charged.
Jeen scrambled to her feet, slipped, fell. The door closed, but she could hear the fighting; voices shouting, phaser fire, the clang of metal on metal. By the time she got to her feet again, and managed to wipe the blood-coated door release, it was all over… Ives sat upon the torn apart remains of the Praetor’s headless body, both hands wrapped around the hilt of a keen-edged blade; it was driven down through the Romulan’s chest, and well into the deck beneath.
“C-Captain,” Kino panted, barely able to stand. “S-she…,”
“It," Ives corrected. "Whatever remained of the former Praetor clearly did not wish to live. It’s over,” Ives grunted in pain, ignoring his own wounds as he looked to his crew first; he stood and withdrew the sword with a grimace of effort. “See to the wounded,” Ives nodded to them all, “and make ready for departure as soon as we have all crew accounted for,” he waved a hand to Tal’Aura. “Preserve this as best we can. It may yet prove useful.”
Someone rushed to Kino’s side; she felt hands try to steady her – pressing into her wounds – and agony re-flared too hot and too overbearing to counter. Kino fell to one knee as Ives continued to issue orders, but she couldn’t keep up. Overcome with pain and unbearable fatigue, Jeen sat against the bulkhead for a moment, just a moment to rest her eyes…
And everything faded to black. NARRATOR: It was not without loss of life and significant damage to their ship that Captain Ives and his infiltration crew successfully outed Tal’Aura of her Infested nature and established new diplomatic ties with a new faction among the Romulans, one that contested the rule of both the deceased Tal’Aura and the Empress Donatra. Though they retreated back toward the Triangle with their injured and new allies, there were still more questions that had yet to be answered lurking in their minds. What would they find at the Triangle? How would Donatra receive the news of Tal’Aura’s death AND the newly open opposition from among the Romulan-Reman movement? Only time would tell…
TIME: Day 2, 2200HRS
[ Hirek tr’Aimne | Medical Bay | Upper Deck| USS Allegiant ]
“You somehow managed to look worse than me,” Hirek’s voice was strained as he fought back a wave of pain. His comment, lobbed at the Trill on the one biobed of the medical bay, was playful in its barb, traded from one survivor to another. “Reika chose you as her one true love already; there was no need to make such an entrance.”
Whatever pithy remark the Kino intended was temporarily lost as all crew were instructed to brace themselves. The order came mere milliseconds before the ship lurched and heaved, likely from weapons fire. Hirek’s efforts to brace were mightily hindered by his wounds, courtesy of the Tal’Shiar examiner. He managed to grab hold of a counter only to have his feet swept out from under him, landing in a painful heap on the deck.
“I think I’ll just stay here for now,” he waved away the attempted help from a crewmate, who’d paused in taking care of Kino just long enough to brace and notice Hirek’s plight, “until a vacancy develops, this is probably a safer option for me while my fellow, albeit misguided, Romulans attempt to end our existence.”
Injured during their temporary stay at the Citadel, Hirek was curious if it was Lillee flying through the gauntlet of Romulan fighters or if someone else had taken over. The ship rattled again, marginally less violent this time, indicating that the fighters were still in pursuit. It’d been close, their arrival back at the Allegiant and subsequent effort to get off the planet as fast as possible, stealth be damned by that point. Hirek was torn in that, on the one hand, he was glad they were all still alive (well, mostly all) and all in one piece (again, mostly). On the other hand, it was almost embarrassing how they’d managed to get onto Romulus, muck about as they’d done, and get off the planet without greater loss of life.
Still, there was much to be celebrated (if even for the previous few minutes they had left of life before a Romulan fighter got lucky and obliterated their shields and then the ship altogether). The Praetor had been unmasked as being Infested and had saved them all heaps of trouble by “killing” herself, only to die again by Kino’s hand. This left the conniving bitch, Donatra, to be dealt with. Hirek didn’t trust her more than he’d trusted Tal’Aura, as both had favored using the Tal’Shiar in even greater capacities to secure their rule and terrorize their people into compliance.
And now they had this new Reman-Romulan faction, led by Senator Vkruvux and the Reman forces and backed by Senator tr’Rehu and his coalition. During their escape and destruction of the Citadel, a number of those within the faction had come through, and in many ways, they were only successful in getting back to the Allegiant on account of these new potential allies. But would the captain follow through with what they were asking of him? Would he support their claim to govern Romulus and advocate thusly to the non-Infested Federation council when such a time offered itself?
“For fuck’s sake!” The crewman tending to Kino cursed as the ship shuddered, sending his body bouncing between the biobed and a set of drawers.
Hirek concurred with the man’s frustration and unspoken question. There was no way to know if their new perhaps allies would swoop in to their rescue, and Hirek knew they could. The Remans had more than a few ships at their disposal, both officially and unofficially. If they didn’t, then whoever was at the helm and manning the weapons on the ship had better be at their best. Otherwise, none of them would live long enough to contemplate the curiosity of a Reman-integrated Romulan future. NARRATOR: Soon after leaving Romulus, the Allegiant was hounded by a number of Romulan fighters. It was only because of the superb flying of the Allegiant that they managed to survive.
“Sir, I believe I’m picking up the Apache, also on course toward the Triangle.”
Petty Officer Fen Chao’s voice broke through the din of crew calling one to another, working together to fix what systems they could before they arrived back at the Triangle, and whatever dangers lurked therein. Ives wasn’t certain what or who had recalled the fighters pursuing them from Romulus, but their survival was only on account of that variable.
Chao continued as if reading Ives’ reflection on the Romulan pursuit. “There appear to be Romulan ships moving in close formation around it. I’m not detecting weapons’ fire.”
Shifting his weight in his chair to lean forward, Ives replied, “Are they within signal range?”
There was a pause before a “Yessir. Audio only.”
“Put them through.” A moment passed before he was given the signal for connection. “Apache, this is the Allegiant. Do you copy? What’s your status?”
A crackle sounded before a female voice. [ “Yes, Allegiant, we copy. This is Ensign Henshaw. We lost Lieutenant Amarik and others. We were successful in scanning the triggers and relayed our data onward. Have not received confirmation that they received it. Our presence at the station was detected, and during our escape, we commandeered a few ships to support our efforts.” ]
Ives nodded. That explained the Romulan ships. He was not looking forward to the casualty report and dreaded the numbers of crew lost, the names they’d have to add to the memorial wall. They’d only just finished one memorial service, and if they managed to pull off another survival trick in the next few hours, he’d have to officiate another memorial service.
“Thank you, Ensign Henshaw. We will relay a new set of coordinates to you. I want to rendezvous before arriving at the Triangle. As we were unable to call off Tal’Aura’s forces, we will know soon enough if they have beaten us to the Triangle.” Ives nodded to Chao, who quickly moved to follow his orders. “You’ve done a commendable job. All of you have.”
[“Thank you sir, we’ve received the coordinates. Henshaw out.”]
Now, all they could do was continue to make what repairs were possible, link up with the Apache, and continue on to the Triangle. They were still too far out to establish contact or scan, but Ives didn’t need those to confirm his suspicions. He had every confidence that all hell was presently breaking loose among his crew and allies.
All his sacrifices and compromises, and those of his family, would finally pay off.
Or so Delon dared to hope as he watched his console light up with the frantic reports he’d so cleverly rerouted and intercepted before they could carry on to their final destination.
Being so far down in the hierarchy had its perks in that he’d installed the equipment and coded the programs necessary to succeed in this incept without anyone looking twice. As the son of a disgraced senator, he’d been “punished” into serving in this inconsequential department. But that’d suited him just fine. It allowed him access to numerous systems within the government, many of which had no notion they had a “backdoor” so blatantly open to the likes of Delon.
With a subtle smirk of delight, Delon patched the connections from the Praetor’s guards through to the preprogrammed response, giving them false hope of support of more guards while keeping the true recipient's none the wiser of the problem. Where the other members of their faction were taking the Praetor, Delon didn’t know, and he didn't particularly care. All he knew was that the day had arrived for Praetor Tal Aura to be ousted from her position, making way for the growth of his faction.
Delon knew it would be some time before their efforts could be publicly acknowledged, but he was a patient man. And, more than that, he still had much to do to ensure their success in the meantime…
His wounds still smarted, but watching the surviving Star Fleeters escape the remains of the Citadel via the secure pneumatic tube system helped Tiramex ignore any lingering pains. Most of the Citadel remained standing, but enough of it was damaged or destroyed in their route to freedom to signal to the Romulan—and Reman—people that a major change was coming. The ominous symbol of suppression was smoking and charred in places now, with only a few towers left glittering in pristine condition.
It was a shame that not all of the Star Fleeters had made it. From what he’d heard on their secure channel, at least one Vulcan female had been killed in the escape attempt, and undoubtedly, more would be lost if they didn’t make it back to their ship in time. Tiramex knew that more of his allies were awaiting them at their next stop, offering another shuttle to their ship, but even so it was now a race to see who could escape who.
Those in positions of power still loyal to the Praetor and who had no knowledge of her kidnapping, thanks to their plant within the reporting department, would be none the wiser and make no moves against them. But only for so long as those who’d survived this violent escape would be now using their personal communication systems to reach out from the Citadel to alert the authorities.
If they managed to get back to their ship and likewise make it off the planet, Tiramex knew their faction had enough vessels deployed to offer further support to the Star Fleeters as they made their run for the border. But that could and would only happen IF they made it off-planet, and there was still a lot of ground and sky to cover before that became a reality.
He hated the quiet that'd ruled supreme on the ship ever since they'd landed and the teams had gone off on their missions. It'd haunted the ship in between the scattered reports and even now seemed deafening as they waited for a status update on the extraction of their people. The last he'd heard, contact had been made between their new--potential--allies working with Senator tr’Rehu but that'd been nearly half an hour ago and Jien knew very well much could happen in that time.
As if summoned by thought, Jien jerked forward in his seat when he saw his console light up, a message patched through from the communications officer.
[ Arriving via shuttle in five minutes. Authorities alerted. Leave immediately. ]
Jien pushed out of his chair, quickly making his way to the bridge. "Ensign!" Jien called out as he entered. "Prepare the ship for departure. Our people on their way back, and they've got unfriendlies on their tail."
"Yessir!"
Sinking into the captain's chair, Jien took a steadying breath as his crew followed orders. At least they wouldn't have to wait in silence any longer. No doubt, before long, he'd likely almost long for the peace of the silence as they fled back to the Triangle. It wasn't his first "fight to freedom," and it was quite likely not going to be his last. There was too much at stake to waste mental space on envisioning capture and defeat. The fate of the Federation was once more teetering on the edge of a sword and their success in this mission was vital for its survival.
"Captain, a shuttle is approaching." There was a pause before a tense follow-up. "With two ground vehicles following firing weapons."
Jien nodded. Just as he'd expected, this was NOT going to be an easy escape. But then again, it never was.
FIN
In future posts during the battle threads or during the Interregnum, writers can recall what they did and how they got out during this escape, but for the sake of wrapping up and moving on, this broadstroke post closes down this thread. If writers wish to continue detailing the escape in " real time, " they can do so in further supplemental or one-shots with just the few writers involved. Otherwise, consider this the end of this thread. The dead female is Cir'Cie. Cheers!
Last post by Krajin - [ Dominic Winters | Flight Deck | Fighter Bay | Deck 16 | U.S.S Theurgy ATTN:@rae @Pierce @Dumedion @Stegro88 @Havenborn @Eden @Krajin @Tae @P.C. Haring @ob2lander961 @Dree @Ellen Fitz
Dominic helped lift and load some of the heavy ordinance into Wolf 10 as part of the last round of bits needing to be done to his craft, having suffered less damage than most, aside from the ablative sheet needing to be replaced. The big-arse Kzint moved with some surprising dexterity as he shifted around and helped the crew, following directions while others rushed off to do other jobs elsewhere. All he had to do was hold this, that or lift a thing.
[Inbound enemy contacts bearing 0-5-2, mark 0-2-3, range fifty thousand kilometers! Wolf Squadron to your spacecraft!] That’s the call! Finishing with the last task he headed up to his cockpit and climbed right on in. His hefty bulk settled into that incredibly comfortable chair, and the big man slipped on his helmet. He sucked in his breath, counted to three, and then exhaled before he began his pre-flight checks. The first of all little customizations that everyone does to their fighters, Dom slipped a small photo out from a pouch of his Father and Mother and slipped it onto a spot where it would not be in the way but still sat in his vision.
Today we are the damned. His ears and tail both twitched as a degree of excitement welled up from deep down. Dominic wanted this fight, no not wanted.. needed it. "Wolf-10, All preflights checked. Ready for final clearance to launch."
He glanced out of the cockpit towards the various officers and crew milling about, wondering who of this he would get to see when all is said and done. Lok was handling himself pretty well for being under pressure and assuming the role of deck chief. He knew his fellow Kzint would come out of this safe and sound.
The former sentinel avoided the distractions of the battle raging beyond the viewports; there were elements in motion now that required her attention. Even as she walked at full stride, Jaeih’s mind churned at the implications and consequences of the few choices she had left, given the circumstances at hand.
Time, it seems, has run its course, the Romulan admitted to herself, pulling the hood free from her head to reveal the stark white drape of hair. In the next stride, the outer robes fell from muscled shoulders to the carpeted floor while she pulled the sword concealed from the scabbard between her shoulder blades with effortless grace – the steel, no longer than her arm, held a recurved edge and gleamed in the red-tinted gloom of combat lighting. The blade had a name, like all weapons should; it was etched into blood channels along its length – V’ale, in the nearly forgotten tongue of Jaeih’s ancestors – a name her more ‘modern’ kin would misinterpret as simply Truth.
Nothing is ever simple, Jaeih allowed herself a rare smile, only the barest curl of her lips. Word had finally reached her of the Praetor’s demise. Phase one, it seemed, had been accomplished, now the final act dawned: for the benefit of all Romulans, they could not trade one dictator for another – certainly not one as power hungry and arrogant as the upstart ‘Empress’ Donatra.
And now, the masks slip free, the sentinel exhaled quietly, features set in determination. By her own actions, Jaeih had aided Donatra in neutering the internal sensors and sowing confusion during the various incursion attempts by the Empress' and the Praetor's agents thus far; a necessary evil to assure the would-be monarch’s trust and confidence, as well as a means to an end, to see where the chips would fall. Now, we enter the endgame.
She turned a corner and the blade in her hand slashed the empty air in a flurry of blurred motion; emerald blood sprayed in an arc, jetted from seemingly nothing, painting the wall and viewport in gore. The hidden Tal’Shiar agent’s cloak-suit failed as it slumped with a wet gurgle, collapsing to his knees. Jaeih took a second to impale her blade into the wall as the man died, then casually lifted the disruptor pistol from his body, and loosed three shots into the wall behind her. Cold eyes returned to the body; this one had been one of Donatra's, and thus, one of Jaeih's. She had tracked his progress meticulously, and applauded his skillful execution; now he would serve a new purpose in death.
Surely that will bring someone along, the Sentinel nodded, tossing the weapon to the floor.
[PO2 Kino Jeen | Moving between decks 5/6 | The Helmet]
They’d materialized moments earlier and hit the deck running, as the saying went; Kino on point, followed close by Hirek, while Falvar and Agans fanned out on either side. The ship was taking a beating around them as they moved – if the constant rumble and shakes meant anything, not to mention the power fluctuations, or the fact that every time Kino glanced outside there seemed to be a constant lightshow on display. Not the nice ones either, like the one I planned for Red’s birthday, Jeen frowned to herself at the insanity taking place outside. Win or lose, whatever happens today will go down in history as a very bad day.
A ping on her wrist-PADD prompted a data feed spike into her helm display, as SecOps uploaded sensor data. Kino blink-clicked an acknowledgment. “Contact, weapons fire ahead, next junction,” she alerted her team and lengthened her stride in the same instant. “Eyes up."
Kino’s rifle moved in perfect synchronicity with her eye as they moved to intercept; at the corner junction she paused, checked her corners, pivoted, and locked in on a lone figure at the end of the hall. A female, tall, white hair: she stood with her back to Kino, next to a prone body on the deck. Damn, that’s a big bitch, Jeen’s brow twitched.
“Security – hands spread in the air, now,” Kino commanded.
The figure complied, slow and deliberate.
“Slowly turn,” Kino commanded, taking equally slow steps towards the woman. "Take three steps towards me."
The figure complied, revealing a surprisingly dark skinned, green eyed Romulan, dressed in form fitting leather attire of unremarkable quality. Jeen saw no visible weapons, other than the length of a blade impaled into the wall and the side arm near her feet. The Romulan seemed almost…bored.
“You took your time,” the Romulan spoke in oddly accented Federation standard, then gestured to the body with a twitch of her hand. “As you can see, you have a serious problem. One I am obliged to assist with, for the greater good of my people.”
“Is that a fact,” Kino snorted, clamping her rifle to her chest as her team closed in. “I’m sure they’ll wanna hear all about it in the brig, lady,” the Trill smirked behind her helm as she fished out a set of binders.
The Romulans eyes flicked between the four of them, then settled back on Kino. “You may call me Jaeih, and if you wish to prevent more bloodshed, you will listen. Right now, there is an effort underway to neutralize your greatest asset – that abomination you name Thea,” her white hair swayed as the Romulan shook her head. “This is a ruse.”
Kino’s head tilted as the Trill shrugged her armored shoulders. “Okay biggums, color me curious: you can talk while we walk.”
The Romulan opened her mouth to speak, but the entire ship shook under one of the worst barrages yet; sparks flew from the walls and ceiling as EPS conduits shorted or overloaded – lights flickered, failed. Everything tumbled into chaos, as the world tumbled. Pressure flared and died as Jeen was tossed from deck to wall back to deck, then something was pulling her backwards at an insane velocity.
Hull breach, she knew, instinctively.
The next second, Kino was pulling herself up to a knee, trying to shake the disorientation away as she called out for her team and visually checked for everyone. The corridor behind them ended in a jagged gash of twisted metal, folded in melted composite metal. Behind a shimmer of a force field, the battle raged on in the void. Fuck, Kino blinked, then prepped to hail SecOps to report the situation, watching as Hirek moved to assist the other Romulan to her feet while Agans and Falvar recovered.
“New plan, start talking,” Jeen told her.
Jaeih grunted something between a laugh and a snort as she regained her feet. “A multi-pronged assault is underway. Without, within,” she nodded to the void, then to the deck. “To sow confusion, to distract. Even I don’t know where all our people are, or where they intend to strike, but I assure you this: Thea would already be dealt with if it were possible.”
Kino stood, giving Agans a hand up with a grunt then gestured to Hirek. “Yall certainly are full of yourselves, I’ll give you that,” she snipped, then addressed Jaeih with a jab of her finger. “Nice story lady, but that’s nothing we don’t already know. C’mon, we got a nice hole for you to sit in for awhile.”
The sentinel moved in a blur of motion, and before Kino could react, Hirek’s bulk was colliding with her in a crash of armored limbs. The momentum carried them both to the deck in a heap, while Jeen cursed and struggled to push him off of her. Too little, too late; Jaeih, the former sentinel, stood above them both, blade angled down at their heads while the disruptor pistol was raised to cover Agans and Falvar.
“I need you to pay attention, Starfleet. I am not your enemy. Your enemy is moving to strike at the head and heart of this ship as we speak. Do you understand me?”
OOC - have fun, sow chaos. (dont kill Jaeih, pls - im saving her for some fun later, lol)
The Andorian accepted Hassar’s offer to enter, the room plunged back into the barely lit darkness as the doors swished closed behind the man. Hassar turned back towards the large window, with somebody present it would be difficult for him to properly focus on his meditation, so he just looked back out at the stars. Not that he couldn’t do it around others, but there was a certain discomfort he found meditating around aliens, they always wanted to stare or ask questions, perhaps even silently judge. There was also just the added fact that to Hassar this part of his spirituality he always preferred to keep private, a way to truly help expand his mind without the worry of someone else in the room. Granted he should have locked the door to the observation lounge if he truly wanted privacy; spirits liked to silently whisper in the ears of those most in touch with their world, perhaps one convinced Hassar to leave it unlocked so he could have a bit of company.
As he mused on this, the Andorian explained that he was putting up some sort of sensor for some reason, one of the words did not translate; collimation. He just nodded and in his deep voice with a strong Middle Eastern sounding accent, he responded in a neutral tone, “No concerns from me, I wouldn’t wish to keep you from your duties.”
He once again went back to silently staring out the window as the Andorian moved off to his left to attach his device to the frame with some clicks followed by a few beeps when the device activated. Silence followed once more but Hassar could sense the blue man’s eyes upon him even in the near darkness. The silence was broken when the question of what exactly he was looking for among the stars came up. Hassar looked up to the standing Andorian, nothing but a dark silhouette apart from the bit of backlighting of long wavy hair. Hassar chuckled and shook his head, “No, nothing in particular, I’m not very well versed on the stars, I could look at hundreds of them and swear each one was Kyrofala, the star of my home world…I prefer just to sit and appreciate their beauty.”
He paused for a moment then added, “When I was a child, I never saw the stars for well over a decade…there were no windows on the ship we lived on…now though I try to look upon them every chance I get.”
Suddenly the stars were replaced with streaks of white and blue light, bathing the lounge in it and fully revealing the two occupants. If Hassar recalled correctly the light was some sort of ionization of either space dust or gas as it struck the energetic warp field.* Fun while it lasted, Hassar thought to himself while shaking his head, there was no way of knowing exactly how long the light show would last, hopefully it hadn’t ruined whatever the Andorian, which with the room illuminated, Hassar could see was part of the Starfleet science division, was working on. Though that wasn’t all Hassar had noticed about him, now in the proper light the fully handsomeness of this Andorian filled his gaze, and handsome was not something he threw around lightly when it came to aliens. This one had several features any Vaharran would swoon over, a strong chin, large perky lips, a handsomely sculpted nose, and piercing eyes of blue. For Hassar’s own personal tastes he also found the thick white eyebrows appealing and he could help but try to get a better look at the antennae more closely as his curiosity piqued.
Hassar realized he was staring and quickly turned away and cleared his throat. With a bit of an exaggerated sigh he got to his feet and remarked, “Well I guess that’s the end of that for the moment…hopefully your experiment wasn’t ruined.”
Hassar himself was no slouch in the looks department either, at least he thought so anyway; once fully on his feet he stood a few centimeters taller than the Andorian, minus the antennae, though he certainly was a lot bulkier with his powerful muscular build. At a glance one might mistake him for a Klingon due to his cranial ridges but the pointed ears and greenish brown skin dispelled that notion, another notable feature was that his ridges, in reality super hard armor plates, extended down his spin and also appeared in the area of his sternum adding a bit of unique contours to his already well contoured body. He had some body hair though it was notably thin and surprisingly soft as well as his jet black beard which he kept well groomed, beyond that he had no other hair on his body, well that the Andorian would have been able to see.
With a stretch and a crack of his neck, Hassar moved back to take a seat on the couch that had his gear. He stole another quick glance at his handsome companion before removing some folded up papers from a duffle bag and a pen. Unlike Starfleet they still had physical paperwork to do, in this case Hassar had been given a final inventory of all the equipment his marines had brought on board, something that he needed to review then file away later. However, as much as he tried, he could not help but feel his curiosity taking hold.
Finally he just kind of blurts out, “So do you hear with those also or do they sense other things?”
OOC Note- *This is just my head cannon for why sometimes in Trek their are just the star streaks and others why there is sometimes the Star Warsesque hyper-space thing going on.
