Star Trek: Theurgy

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CHAPTER 05: BATTLE LOG [ DAY 06 | 1110 HRS. ] STORM GLASS

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(https://uss-theurgy.com/w/images/7/7e/Ep05-Corridor.png)

[ Ens. Cir'Cie (https://uss-theurgy.com/w/index.php?title=Cir%27Cie) | Main Engineering | Deck 25 | USS Theurgy ]
^{Attn: @Doc M. @Absinthe @fiendfall @alphawiz @SummerDawn @FollowTomorrow @Stegro88}
[Show/Hide]It had almost become a customary routine on Cir'Cie's behalf, when the ship was engaged in battle - since she had little to offer the crew with her main scientific field - that she would seek to aid other departments. Since the Theurgy was in dire need of repairs even before the battle began, she had submitted a request to aid Engineering in whatever way she could. While she had Academy-grade knowledge in the field, she was also Vulcan, and it was only logical that she would apply her skillset where it was most needed. This, despite the fact that she still felt the aftereffects of the sucrose ingestion from last night.

When she entered Engineering, the area was bustling with activity. She strode down the center of the area with her shoulders squared and her hands behind her back. As she were, the sounds of the ship dropping out of warp could be heard when so close in proximity to the warp core. She surmised that they had arrived to the destination at the heart of the Azure Nebula, and that they would either have to convince Chancellor Martok that they came with the intent to help seal the apertures, or the Borg might already be present. She had assumed there would be a battle taking place, since negotiating with hostile Klingons was seldom a successful endeavour.

When she walked, she almost paused, since she had just made eye-contact with the Trill that had slept in her bed that night. Kaylon Jeen. She pretended like she hadn't seen him, of course, since she had no idea what to say to the man. The whole affair with the the root and what she'd done together with the Trill was a matter of deep shame, and Vulcan's held to being very private. She raised an eyebrow and looked around, not finding the T'fanrell creature in sight. Perhaps she was on duty elsewhere on the ship, but Cir'Cie held a fascination for the species. The human species, not so much, but as it were, it was a human that served as Acting Chief Engineer based on experience and knowledge of the ship.

"Master Chief Petty Officer O'Connell," she said, announcing her presence behind the man, who she knew might not be entirely pleased with her presence since she had sabotaged the ship a couple of weeks back, under the influence of T'Rena. Other engineers were present too, one being a female Bajoran that she couldn't place, and the second, a human of Asian heritage. She could not spot the Efrosian that served second in command to O'Connell, so she had to assume he was elsewhere.  "I am here to offer my services, should you require an extra pair of hands. Judging by the state of he ship, I would assume my offer won't be amiss."

[ Lt. JG Jovela (https://uss-theurgy.com/w/index.php?title=Jovela) | Main Sickbay | Deck 11 | USS Theurgy ]
^{Attn: @Nolan @Doc M. @TWilkins @lisavw @FollowTomorrow @Absinthe @Juzzie}
[Show/Hide]Nurse Jovela appeared out of the Morgue, having finished cataloguing the recent deaths among the survivors of the Bellerophon and the Theurgy alike. She was weary, the morning having been quite a challenge. She had tried to find Drauc, having been worried about the Romulan since the ship split up, but she'd had no luck locating her saviour. While they had been apart, she had missed the training he'd put her through, and she wanted to tell him how she'd fought Klingons in the ICU the day before. Did she hope he'd be proud of her? No, that was likely expecting too much... It was rarely she could guess what went on in that Romulan's head.

Jovela followed the rest of the medical officers working in Sickbay towards the area between the Head Nurse's duty station and the on-call Medical Officer's station. It was located just in front of the main entrance to the CMO office, and she'd been called there for a briefing. She assumed it had to do with the pending battle, or at least what was expected to be a battle with the Borg. With this in mind, most patients that could fend for themselves had been sent to their quarters to recuperate, and the biobeds cleared as much as possible. They had also brought out as many hover gurneys as possible, so that triage could be preformed in the corridors when the wards were full. While she approached, she saw Doctor Amelya Rez at the center, along with Elro Kobol  from the Endeavour, Doctor Maya, and Doctor T'Panu from the Cayuga, who had ended up on the Theurgy due to happenstance.

To the side, she could also see Counselors Ejek and B'Nila, the latter whom she didn't know if she was on duty yet, given what had befallen her during the battle with the Savi. Jovela only had the hearsay of it...

"Doctors," came the call from another Nurse - Leticia Jones - and she looked concerned. Concerned enough to interrupt Amelya Rez even before she dealt out her orders as Acting Chief Medical Officer. "It's patient Krystal Tancredi. She's missing. Should I ask Security to track her down?"

[ Lt. JG Adam Kingston (https://orig00.deviantart.net/1cf3/f/2018/249/c/8/adam_kningston_by_auctor_lucan-dcm5pot.png) | Security Center Lobby | Deck 07 | USS Theurgy ]
^{Attn: @trevorvw @Absinthe @FollowTomorrow @CanadianVet @patches}
[Show/Hide]Wearing full exosuit gear, Adam Kingston emerged into the spacious lobby of the Security Center, armed with one of the Accipiter rifles. As Acting Deputy aboard - ThanIda zh'Wann still missing - he had requested the weapon so that he could spearhead one of the security details that would protect the crew.

Looking around the present officers, including several NCOs, it was one head that stood up above the rest. It was the Acting Chief of Security - Kai Akoni - from the Endeavour. His position was part of an olive branch extended by the current Commanding Officer. Wenn Cinn, whom Adam had served with for a long time. If Cinn thought the man capable enough, she'd reserve judgement on the selection. He spotted a face of old, Kino Taer, having heard she was out of stasis but never having gotten the chance to speak with her yet. Plenty of unknowns there too. Presumably from the Resolve. The most alarming sight, however, was that of an Asurian.

Given the events on the Cayuga, where he'd fought prisoners that had broken free from the brig and killed a lot of people, he felt his concerns about the one named Dyan Cardamone was merited. He'd been briefed, however, that she was loyal, and had fought her own people during some battle with a big, white ship. He wasn't sure what to make of this Cardamone, but he decided not to come stand anywhere close to her in the throng of security guards.

Kai Akoni was about to deal out orders, also standing there with an Accipiter - just like Ryuan Sel - since the ship due to drop out of warp any minute. That was when the sliding doors of the entrance parted behind Adam Kingston. He turned his helmet and saw... a Romulan? He was dressed in beggars clothes, his robe frayed and threadbare, but he appeared strong enough, eyes barely seen behind tresses of burgundy hair. He looked familiar, somehow. As if he was related to one of the Lone Wolves. Kingston had first thought it was Nathaniel Isley, but that certainly wasn't the case.

"I come to offer aid, should the Borg try to seize this ship." rasped the newcomer, apparently unconcerned with the number of faces present. He glanced towards his left before he continued, likely having sighted Doctor Nicander through the two forcefields that led to temporary holding. The Infested had four armed guards outside the outer forcefield, so it had likely been what drew attention. The Romulan turned back to Kai Akoni, and it almost seemed as if he looked towards Ryuan Sel for a moment. Did they have history? When he spoke again, it was with the same grating, damaged voice. "I am Drauc T'Laus, yet I served during the Dominion War as Junior Lieutenant D'rek i'Den Manek, a name Starfleet Intelligence picked to hide my identity. If you need another set of hands, I offer them now, and I am willing to surrender myself as an old deserter of the fleet after the battle. Given the nature of this enemy, it would not be a righteous choice to hide from this battlefield."

Adam Kingston might not like deserters, but he realised that this was not his call. He looked towards Kai Akoni, wondering if anyone would vouch for this scarred Romulan that had just surrendered himself.

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OOC: This thread is open for all events aboard the Theurgy that does not take place on the bridge! :) No set posting order, but everyone with characters aboard the Theurgy should post in response within 7 days starting today. Please bear in mind that while this thread is available for all, you may all start up Supplemental threads too, if that would be your preference. The naming convention of such Supplemental threads would be CH05: S [D06|1110] Insert Title. Looking forward to read the development, and of curse, I will be posting several IC challenges along the way here, giving you all objectives to deal with during the battle. Have fun! 

[ William Robert O’Connell (http://fc01.deviantart.net/fs71/f/2014/219/f/7/oconnel_row_01_by_auctor_lucan-d7u6n2x.png) | Main Engineering | Deck 25 | USS Theurgy ]  ^{Attn: @Auctor Lucan  @Absinthe @fiendfall @alphawiz @SummerDawn @FollowTomorrow @Stegro88}

"Master Chief Petty Officer O'Connell," Ensign Cir’Cie greeted with the calm professional voice of a ship’s computer, "I am here to offer my services, should you require an extra pair of hands.  Judging by the state of the ship, I would assume my offer won't be amiss."

Slowly the master chief turned.  Although an extra pair of qualified hands was always appreciated, assistance from Ensign Cir’Cie wasn’t something acting Chief Engineer William Robert “Billy Bob” O’Connell saw as a benefit.  The little Vulcan had several strikes against her.  First and foremost was that she was ensign from the science department.  Ensigns were trouble and were often full of themselves.  Despite the fact that they had a college degree it didn’t change the fact that their inexperience could make them awfully stupid.  Experienced spacers like chiefs, master chiefs and warrant officers found them tedious as well.  It’s hard to take orders from someone younger than you.  

The fact that she was a scientist and not an engineer was a bigger strike against her.  What was her field of study anyway, botany?  How did that apply to plasma conduit repair or shipfitting?  If a lieutenant commander from the science department offered his assistance O’Connell would be glad to accept; a lieutenant commander had been serving long enough for the master chief to assume that either had experience or cross training.  But a teal collared ensign?  There were crewman available to hold the toolbox for you.

Although Starfleet had done its best to create a fleet without bigotry when it came to race or species, O’Connell discovered that many Vulcans rubbed him the wrong way, particularly the younger ones with officer's pips.  And the lower ranking the Vulcan officer the bigger the irritation they tended to be.

Finally there was the fact the Ensign Cir’Cie herself seemed to be a jinx, if not a walking disaster area.  If the slender Vulcan had a more buxom figure O’Connell would have called her a booby trap.  Scuttlebutt had it that she was the one who brought the contagious pollen back from the planet Niga that had turned nearly everyone aboard (Billy Bob included) into to rapists and even murderers.  After the Theurgy made contact with the starship Harbinger Cir’Cie had managed to get herself brainwashed by some Vulcan mind juju that she proceeded to spread to the rest of the crew, just has she had before.  Again she had transformed the crew into murderers, mutineers, and yes, even rapists.  The pattern was so alarming that her very presence set Billy Bob on edge.  The fact that she was still alive when so many good men and women weren’t was an injustice to his mind.  But since she was an officer and he was an enlisted man he did his best to express himself in a non confrontational way.

Even so, he had served in Starfleet long enough to know how to get around being insubordinate.  Although his mouth had gotten him in trouble many times in the past he knew just how close to the edge he could get without falling off.

“Why bless yer li’l heart Ensign, that’s mighty generous of yuh,” he crooned condescendingly.  “Ah shore appreciate yer offer but Ah cain’t rightly say Ah need uh botanist raight now.  All th’ same that yuh kindly,” he nodded gallantly hoping she’d take the hint and vamoose.  The thought of this woman anywhere near his people, let alone on the same ship, made his blood curdle.

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[ Maya (https://uss-theurgy.com/w/index.php?title=Dr._Maya) |  Main Sickbay | Deck 11 | USS Theurgy ] ^{Attn: @Auctor Lucan  @TWilkins @lisavw @FollowTomorrow @Absinthe}

"Doctors," a breathless Nurse Leticia Jones trotted worriedly from the patient recovery ward, "it's patient Krystal Tancredi. She's missing. Should I ask Security to track her down?"

Maya raised a bemused eyebrow.  "Interesting.  It seems that her recent surgery was either too efficacious or not efficacious enough,” she commented dryly.

[ Dr Amelya Rez | Main Sickbay | Deck 11 | USS Theurgy ]
@Auctor Lucan   @TWilkins  @lisavw  @FollowTomorrow @Absinthe  @Doc M.

After having gathered all the current doctors and counselors, Amelya still felt tired. She had barely slept in the past days and the exhaustion was beginning to take its toll on her. Regardless she wouldn't show it to the outside world or her peers. They were looking to her for what needed to be done, in the absence of the CMO that was still in the brig. An infested CMO...

"Doctors and counselors, nurses. We're expecting quite some work in the coming minutes and hours ahead." she started "I'll be dealing out most of the vaccines to slow down Borg infection once contained to it. We don't have enough for the entire crew, so I'll be doing rounds to those on key positions. Do any of you still need vaccinations? I'll be doing so until we'll get major injuries coming in. Dotors, perhaps it would be ideal if we spread out on the battle bridges to cover most ground and ensure maximum medical coverage when needed. Counselors, I suggest to help our friends from the Bell-" Amelya was interrupted by nurse Jones.

"Doctors, it's patient Krystal Tancredi. She's missing. Should I ask Security to track her down?"

Amelya sighed softly as she looked at Maya as she made a dry comment "Could she have gotten far after her surgery? How successful was the procedure?" she asked her peers. She'd leave the decision to them to use Security to find her or if they'd seek her out themselves.

[ Lieutenant Elro Kobol | Main Sickbay | Deck 11 | Vector 02 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @Auctor Lucan @Nolan @lisavw @FollowTomorrow @Absinthe @Doc M.

Elro grimaced at the revelations about Ensign Tancredi, hoping that she hadn’t managed to get herself into any trouble whilst escaping the confines of Sickbay. He felt a certain kinship with the Ensign, after having poked around in her head, and he truly wished that nothing ill would come of her, especially having spent so long enduring such a harrowing existence with the tumour in her head. However, Elro was also pragmatic enough to recognise that despite their best intentions, one wayward Ensign was not the real priority.

He’d recently suffered through a Borg attack. That was the only thought he could entertain. 

Those crippling hours of terror following Captain Amosov’s announcement were not easy memories for Elro to deal with, nor even recall. Elro had compartmentalised them until he had a healthy chance to revisit and come to peace with the events that had transpired aboard the Endeavour. However, he was now faced with an uncomfortable reality; he needed to drag his memories back out into the open and use them to try and best aid the medical team and the crew at his new posting.

Elro knew that he was trembling. He was afraid of what was to come. How many times could he face the Borg and avoid assimilation? Even getting away once was nothing short of miraculous. His fear wouldn’t impede his medical judgement; Elro was far too collected for that. But it wasn’t going to subside until they were well-away from any traces of Borg activity and he was sipping on a tall glass of something that tasted of both raspberry and gin.
 
“I haven’t seen her since I left Sickbay yesterday evening…” Elro cordially replied, before his hand moved up to scratch at the side of his head in his familiar nervous manner. “Look as much as I care for Ensign Tancredi’s whereabouts, perhaps the Borg should be the more pressing of our concerns?” Elro cursed himself. Whilst he wasn’t being rude, perhaps his tone was a trifle too short to be addressing his colleagues with.

“I apologise for my abruptness; given my recent experiences with the Borg I hope you can understand.” Elro apologised in a breathy tone, his whole body feeling uncomfortable, almost clammy. He knew he needed to keep busy, get to organising, get out and hunker down in a different Sickbay and keep himself too busy to worry. “I’ll report to Deck Seven and begin preparations to receive patients there, but I do first need to mention…” He began, losing his words on the threat of talking about an especially uncomfortable topic for him to recall.

“On the Endeavour, by the time crewmen exposed to nanoprobes had reached Sickbay, the process of assimilation was already underway…” He was skirting the issue. “What I mean to ask is, with the risk to the rest of the crew being so high if our own start to succumb to the Hive Mind… What will our policy be on euthanasia?”

[ Lt. Kai Akoni | Security Centre Lobby | Deck 07 | USS Theurgy ] @Auctor Lucan @Absinthe @FollowTomorrow @CanadianVet @patches

Kai not so patiently waited in the security centre lobby, awaiting all the security personnel to show up for a quick briefing before the presumably soon to be waged battle aboard the Theurgy. Kai didn’t know the security crew aboard the Theurgy very well, but he had already seen them more in action than he had ever seen his people aboard the Endeavour. Either way, he figured that they were now his responsibility and he had to put his faith and trust in them to do their jobs.

As the last crew members entered the lobby, he looked around the lobby and saw game faces on every last one of them. Every single one of them knew what was expected of them, but Kai had some more toys to hand out to help repel the boarders he was sure would be here before they knew it.

Kai turned and set his Accipiter down on the table directly behind him as got ready to dole out orders to the crews assemble before him. As he did so, the doors to the Security Centre slid open and out from behind the exosuited people he saw what appeared to be a Romulan wearing civilian clothing. As Kai saw who exactly it was, he remembered reading about him in the security files, but couldn’t quite remember the name. The Romulan rather quietly walked towards the front of the room towards Kai, as he spoke.

“I come to off aid, should the Borg try to seize this ship” he finished as he reached the front of the room and stood before Kai. The man looked to his left and stared at the cell where Nicander was being held for what seemed was longer than it should be, but in reality, was only 2 seconds, before turning back to Kai.

“I am Drauc T’Laus, yet I served during the Dominion War as Junior Lieutenant D’rek i’Den Manek, a name Starfleet Intelligence picked to hide my identity. If you need another set of hands, I offer them now, and I am willing to surrender myself as an old deserter of the fleet after the battle. Given the nature of this enemy, it would not be a righteous choice to hide from this battlefield.” The man had finished which felt like all eyes were on Kai at the moment in anticipation of what would be said.

Kai paused for a few seconds and considered the options that lay before him. Kai reluctantly concluded that he would indeed need all available people to help repel any boarding parties. If the security file was to be believed, this man could be deadly to the Borg…as long as no Starfleet officers paid the price at his hands. Kai stepped one step forward and looked down slightly to stare into the Romulan’s eyes. He spoke just loud enough for the Romulan to hear him.

”If it were any other time, you’d already be in a cell. You’d better be a man of your word and surrender after this is all over or else I’ll take care of you myself. Understood? Now fall in,” Kai finished as he stepped back one step to address the room.

He looked at all the faces in the room before he spoke. He had been on the receiving end of speeches before big battles, however he had never had to give one.

”Okay people, listen up!” Kai started which had caused the low murmur in the room to cease. ”Some housekeeping items first. We have 12 handheld graviton weapons that were left behind. Bremmer and Taer, you each take one and hand out the rest to those with the best marksmanship. Drauc, you get one too. Ryuan, Kingston and myself all have Accipiter’s and we’ll be mobile in order to better support the security teams as needed.” he concluded before nodding to the crewman to his right who then began to hand out PADDs to the assembled security officers containing their team assignments and orders.

”You’re all being handed PADDs containing your orders and assignments. Obviously we have to protect the main restricted areas. Computer Core, Phaser and Photon Fire control, Airlocks, Transporter rooms and Main Engineering. We should also be doing the Bridge, Sickbays and the Cargo, Shuttle and Fighter assault bays. We all know the Borg will probably be all over the ship like flies on a rotting corpse. Let’s show them and ourselves; that we aren’t dead. Those are the main areas that we want to protect, but I also what the exosuits to be mobile as well to go to the hotspots as needed.” Kai finished as he rubbed the bridge of his nose.

”We should be dropping out of warp shortly, so we’ll have to be in position and ready by then. I just want all of you to trust in yourself, trust in the person beside you and rely on your training. You’re all amongst the best I’ve ever served with and we’ll all make it through together. Let’s show the Borg that today, on this ship, resistance isn’t futile!”

He paused and looked around the room, knowing that professional security officers like the ones assembled here didn’t need a pep talk, but regardless, he hoped it would give them a little kick in the ass.

”Any questions?”

[ Lt Zelosa Ejek | Main Sickbay | Deck 11 | Vector 02 | USS Theurgy ]

Zelosa Ejek, head of the counseling department aboard the USS Theurgy, was surrounded by medical personnel and felt sick to her stomach. She didn’t tell anyone this, because she knew there was nothing they could do. This illness was psychosomatic. She was terrified.

Today could be her last day alive. Her last day as Zelosa Ejek, an individual.

She was trying to ignore it. She had duties, after all, and it wouldn’t be the first time she’d come up so close to death. But it would be the first time she’d run into borg before, and it scared her deeply. So when she was offered a vaccine, she was thankful she was a chief counselor. She was not about to become a martyr.
“I would appreciate a vaccine.”

She stood in the Medical Officer’s station with her hands folded in front of her. They were gripping one another tightly. She was trying to stay present, but finding it hard to do so. Dimly, she was aware that B’nila was here. She shouldn’t be, as she ought to have been dismissed from her duty as a counselor a few days ago, but here she was, like a lost puppy. She heard something about Meony, and that’s when she raised her head.

She wanted to go track down her old friend, speak with her. Obviously something was up—but with B’nila here, she couldn’t do anything. Someone had to babysit her in case she had a psychotic break with reality and tried to shoot up the morgue, again. This is why she was removed from duty in the first place. She pinched the bridge of her nose.

“Security will be busy with preparations. We ought to report her missing and let them decide how high of a priority she is. She's tough." She admitted, "I do not expect her to sit by and recover in the wake of a borg threat. As for euthanasia… Traditionally, the borg are the kind of enemy that would warrant euthanasia. There’s a point during the assimilation process where enough individuals are assimilated that the ship will suffer to keep them alive. Ultimately, the Theurgy’s mission is to stay alive, in order to spread our message. Unless something has changed and I was not made aware.”

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[ PO Dyan Cardamone/Sar-unga Neleo | Security Centre Lobby | Deck 07 | USS Theurgy ]

Dyan stood, her tail whipping. Her mind was at it’s usual chaos, all her thoughts screaming for the blood of the borg. She had her arm blade, as usual, and her phaser. If the borg adapted, or if they were already adapted, she planned to ditch the phaser and slice her way through. She didn’t know if that would work, having never battled borg before, but it’s all she had.

The screaming for blood only seemed to increase as she turned to the newcomer in the room and saw Drauc, her favorite toy. Blood, blood, blood, her mind screamed, demanding battle, or release, or something.

But it was different this time. This time there was a black emptiness somewhere in that chaos. The eye of the storm, controlling it all. It was fear. Fear that she would not survive. Fear that she would not have the strength to end her life before the borg took it. Fear that the glorious, righteous fight against the parasites would end today.

She was afraid. She wanted company.

She kept quiet, going over her PADD and her orders, and wondering if she would wake up tomorrow in a bed or in an alcove, or if she'd wake at all.

[ Dr T'Panu | Main Sickbay | Deck 11 | USS Theurgy ]

"What I mean to ask is, with the risk to the rest of the crew being so high if our own start to succumb to the Hive Mind... What will our policy be on euthanasia?"

Lieutenant Kobol  posed the question. Once it was out in the open, there wasn't really any going back. It was still a tough reality, even though it was a real one. With all of their recent endeavours, T'Panu knew it was a major possibility. It was better to have a plan, even if it wasn't something anyone really wanted to think about. But the reality, albeit difficult, needed some thinking over in order to have a plan.

They had to decide when was too far to let them go. But when was the point of no return? When their mind changes? They start growing Borg limbs? T'Panu thought once their mind started to change they were gone. What was the point of living if you lost your own mind to another being? Hopefully the Borg antibodies would kick in to spare them all that fate. Better to die in battle, than to have your mind taken over by another being. The thought made her feel a bit like a Klingon.

T'Panu left the medical bay, She needed a bit of "fresh air" and decided to go for a walk. Who knows? Maybe she would find Krystal Tancredi through the halls, or someone who missed their dose of the vaccination. She wasn't sure where she was headed, but knew she needed to clear her mind.

As T'Panu strolled the halls, she heard some chatter coming from one of the security members.
She wondered what they had missed. Then she heard the news, that Lieutenant Kai Akoni had made a quite powerful speech to the rest of the crew in the Security Centre about the Borg! After a speech like that, she knew the Borg didn't stand a chance.

Feeling in a clearer headspace, she returned to the Main Sickbay. She pulled out her PADD to attend to Annika. She noted that her vitals were still within normal range, and keeping quite optimal levels since she arrived. There was no cause for concern anymore besides her amnesia. T'Panu researched some potential things they could do to help, including the more abstract ones. Different medicines, some special herbs and tinctures. Teas. Topical creams. She discovered a good cure could be psychotherapy, which would be tricky.

She went back to Annika and stated, "So now that you've gotten a little more comfortable, how are you feeling? I've been meaning to ask...how do you feel about psychotherapy? We could begin by making daily sessions, speaking through what has happened, seeing what you recall. If you would like some time to think about it, I will give you your space and you may let me know," T'Panu explained.

Annika sat with a quizzical look on her face, obviously pondering what T'Panu had just said.

[ Maya (https://uss-theurgy.com/w/index.php?title=Dr._Maya) | Primary Surgical Suite | Main Sickbay | Deck 11 | Vector 02 | USS Theurgy ] ^{Attn: @Auctor Lucan  @TWilkins @lisavw @FollowTomorrow @Absinthe}

Doctor Maya raised an eyebrow as Doctor T'Panu left the discussion.  The topic seemed important enough to stay until it was formally concluded yet the other Vulcan simply left.  Was she ill?  It was a question Maya would ask her once the meeting was over.  In the meantime, Counselor Zelosa Ejek was making some salient points. 

“Security will be busy with preparations. We ought to report her missing and let them decide how high of a priority she is. She's tough.  I do not expect her to sit by and recover in the wake of a Borg threat. As for euthanasia… Traditionally, the Borg are the kind of enemy that would warrant euthanasia. There’s a point during the assimilation process where enough individuals are assimilated that the ship will suffer to keep them alive. Ultimately, the Theurgy’s mission is to stay alive, in order to spread our message. Unless something has changed and I was not made aware.”

"Depending on Ensign Tancredi’s condition,” Maya interjected, "the question of euthanasia may be answered faster than expected.  We treated her condition by injecting reprogrammed Borg nanoprobes into her brain.  It is hypothetically possible, though highly unlikely, that our proximity to the Borg could allow them to reassert control over the nanoprobes and reprogram her from the inside.  If that is the case, we may have a Borg drone loose aboard our ship right now.”

When she noticed the looks the rest of the medics were giving her, Maya clarified.  "Of course, that is a worst case scenario,” she backpedaled, "but even in the most fortunate circumstances we haven’t seen what effect the trauma to her cerebrum has had on her faculties.  The best scenario we can hope for is that she will merely require physical therapy and experience temporary personality disorders as her brain maps out new neural pathways.  That she could be cleared to fly or even be given light duty seems almost beyond the realm of possibility at this stage.  Oh, and before I forget, I too would like to be vaccinated,” she added as an afterthought.

"Computer, what is the location of Ensign Krystal Tancredi?” Maya asked out loud.

[ Ensign Krystal Tancredi is currently in the fighter assault bay, ] Thea’s stilted disembodied voice replied with all of the life of a cadaver in autopsy. 

"Hm,” Maya raised her eyebrows and glanced at Amelya with an expression best described as a casual smirk.  "It seems that Ensign Tancredi’s personality may have emerged intact after all.  Most fortunate.”

[ B'Nila Skai | Main Sickbay | Deck 11 | USS Theurgy ]
[Show/Hide]
The ship was in combat again. Or was it only getting ready for combat? There were wounded. Were they from this battle or another? How many battles had there been? How many were now dead? How many corpses were now littering the morgue?

B'Nila's eyes ere unfocused and drifted over the scene. She could look no one in the eye. She had been found only moments before laying curled in a ball on Michal Silka's bunk in the security enlisted area. She'd been dragged back to sickbay and put to work, but quickly she'd fallen to the wayside. She'd spoken with someone, a survivor of some incident. And then he'd been bustled away. Ejek had given her a look. The look had sunk into B'Nila's heart like a knife and she hadn't moved since.

She tried to not be in the way, but it seemed like the world was spinning and tilting out of control around her. She wanted to get hear bearings, but it was all a blur of motion. She leaned on a wall and rested herself against it, feeling the cold sink into her. She felt a wave of nausea wash over her, but her stomach was empty. She couldn't remember the last time she ate or even had something to drink.

She closed her eyes for a moment and slid down the wall, her body curling into a ball as she seemed to reduce, trying to take up as little space as she could. She just wanted to close her eyes. Just for a little bit.

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[ Ryuan Sel | Security Centre Lobby | Deck 07 | USS Theurgy ]
[Show/Hide]
Sel furrowed her brow at the sound of her name spoken. She'd gotten used to everyone calling her by one name, hearing her family name spoken aloud surprised her. She was tired at this point. It had been a long time since she'd rested properly and even the drunken stupor she'd put herself into a couple of days before had only made things worse. Rest had proven itself impossible, but as with her life behind bars, she did her best to remind herself that the dead rested, the living kept moving.

"The Accipter is our only weapon that I am damn near certain the Borg will not be able to adapt to. Even if they can adapt to the various settings of the rifle and their shields can deal with the rapid fire of the titanium bullets, it is likely that the warp concussion pulse option will knock them down, and if we can knock them down, we can stop them," Sel said, prepping her Accipter for what was to come. "The Borg are slow, but make up for that in raw numbers. If we stay focused and coordinate our efforts we can overcome them. They are not undefeatable and we are not unprepared. Starfleet has been prepping for the Borg for a long time and we've got some of the most powerful weapons in the galaxy right now."

It was not a pep talk for them, so much as for herself. She was building up an emotional armor for this fight. She wondered how many of the people she was now looking at were going to be dead in only a few hours. War was fucking fell. "I'm with you, sir. Let's go kick some Borg ass."

[ Ens. Cir'Cie (https://uss-theurgy.com/w/index.php?title=Cir%27Cie) | Main Engineering | Deck 25 | USS Theurgy ]
^{Attn: @Doc M. @Absinthe @alphawiz @SummerDawn @FollowTomorrow @Stegro88}
[Show/Hide]Oh, but the Human's condescending tone didn't pass Cir'Cie by. Having been taught to repress and control emotion gave Vulcans a keen eye for when others expressed such. It was a part of their upbringing, to chide their peers when they could not maintain their composure. The stinking human was supposed to be in Starfleet, to have the interests of the crew and the mission at heart. Even worse, he was now supposed to fill the role of a Departmental Head, even though he was an NCO. To have him treat her that way, when offering help, it actually provoked her own composure a slight bit.

The reasons for her taking issue were many, but primarily, she surmised his attitude was likely directly related to her being a victim twice since they fled Earth. First, when she was raped on the planet Niga, and secondly, when T'Rena twisted her into her own instrument of mutiny. He ascribed guilt upon her person and conduct for something she'd had no control over, and he openly belittled her for her chosen scientific field, knowing that as an Ensign, she'd had enough training to aid his department. Perhaps he even despised her for her rank, being one of the ignorant workers who thought themselves above their officers. It was expected, of course, in how those of inferior wit thought they knew better.

Another reason, why she reacted more strongly then she usually might, was that the root Kayloon Jeen had given had left her with a lingering headache, and her temper was a tad more easy to spark. The passive aggression that made her raise her eyebrow towards the Human couldn't be kept inside, needing a voice.

"I will make careful note of this decision, Chief O'Connell," she said serenely, refusing to look at the Lieutenant from the Cayuga even though she, deep below the cool surface of her thoughts, wished that the Trill would defend her against the biased, sorry excuse of a Human, "and if we make it through this battle alive, I will ensure that you do not retain your position. Because whether this is an attack upon my shortcomings as a victim, that I am an Officer, that I am a woman, or even scientist, I am certain there has to be someone better suited to run this Department. Someone who does know how to conduct themselves as a proper Starfleet officer instead of a bigot, regardless the reason for your refusal."

She remained, with her arms folded behind her back, interested to see if the Human was used to being called out on his conduct.

Unfortunately, this was when the Theurgy shook from the first impact of gravimetric torpedoes and disruptor beams from the Borg cube, shaking the already damaged ship to a degree that the inertial dampeners couldn't compensate for.

---

OOC: More posts to come, along with some battle objectives! :)

[ Commander Carrigan Trent | Stellar Cartography | Deck 15 | USS Theurgy ]

This was not Flag Bridge, but at least, it was a workspace.  Trent was no longer confined to the suite that had been prepared for him; in fact he had not been until after the conversation with Wenn Cinn.  But he had not been particularly disposed to do anything of use.  He had refused to reinstate him in command, and frankly it suited the human fine; he had never wanted that command in the first place.  It had been thrust upon him, and he hadn't been ready for a wartime command again in spite of being the only officer on board who'd been in that role before.  The strength that had carried him so far had been far more limited that it had once been, and the betrayal he experienced had broken what was left of it.  His mind functioned still, and he still had the raw ability to command.  But what was worse yet, word of having been relieved would have gone across the ship; confidence in him would be shattered, and he could no longer count on his orders being obeyed. 

He had not been reinstated, not asked for his advice or support.  Simply left to his own devices.  And at that point it had suited him just fine. 

A proper hot shower, with the temperature as high as he could bear it and the pressure turned up as high as it would go, he allowed himself to be battered by the torrents of near-scalding water, had been welcome.  Then, a shave.  It had been slow and deliberate, for more than once, the perfect edge of the carbon steel of his straight razor had beckoned to him; his hopes for Heather were still very much alive, but doubt gnawed upon him, and the thoughts of oblivion, or meeting her on the other side of death, were like a siren's song, lethal and seductive...

But eventually, he had cleaned himself up; he was shaven and in a fresh uniform.  And he was at loose ends.  Until his terminal chimed again.  The news had struck him even harder than the first announcement he had been given about the status of the Savi's captive.  They were alive!  Again, his heart swelled, just in time to be asked for help.  Not ordered, but asked.  He named his price, Wenn Cinn agreed.  If they lived through this, he had his word they would go after the Versant and at least attempt to recover their people. 

Stellar Cartography was not a cybernetics laboratory, but it would have to do.  But what it did have such a lab lacked was sensor inputs and the links to control them.  And he had a task in front of him: to come up with a weapon to deploy against the Borg.  And he had just the thing.

Soup Sandwich was kept behind many a layer of security and encryption for a reason: it was a legitimate cyberweapon.  It was a program designed to attack a starship's systems directly, and not just the computers and the links that controlled them.  He had designed it to hunt down particular patterns within the firmware that ran individual systems to render them useless.  But that was only a specific targeted application that had been tailored to disable Federation starships.  He did not have a lot of time, and there was much to do. 

Soup Sandwich was not meant to be a single-purpose program.  He had designed it as a weapon that could be deployed against just about any target; the more information he could give the program the better, of course, but if turned loose, it would eventually work.  At least in theory.  But against the Borg?  That would be interesting to see.

For Soup Sandwich was based on the programming of nanoprobes, particularly the subroutines that controlled adaptability and assimilation. 

And now, he would have to turn these programs against their initial creators...

---

OOC: Broad lines of the conversation in this post were discussed with @chXinya , but in the interest of time the details will be backfilled later.

[ Dr. Silim Parnak (https://uss-theurgy.com/w/index.php?title=Silim_Parnak) | Main Sickbay | Deck 11 | Vector 02 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @FollowTomorrow @Nolan @lisavw @Doc M. @Auctor Lucan , Anyone else
[Show/Hide]Walking with such a quick pace that it could almost be considered a run, Parnak rushed his way towards sickbay. His arms were full, and it was rather heavy. Multiple trays of inoculations, careful stacked on top of each other. Alongside, trying to match his alacrity, was a bald-headed Russian. Parnak had given him the tough job. Pulling all the equipment for the omicron radiation emitter. It didn’t matter that he was a lieutenant, Martin had given him control of the facilities and personnel he needed so he was taking it. Besides, if Parnak was going to haul materials across the ship, someone else was going to schlep with him.

“I do hope you’ve remembered your phaser” Silim commented, as they marched. He hadn’t been issued one. As a civilian, he would have been worried about Starfleet’s lack of weapon handling policies if he had. Not only did this mean that this poor science officer was his hauler, but he was also his bodyguard. Because there was no way that Parnak was going to let himself get assimilated today.

Around the corner and through the doors, the pair entered main sickbay. Without pausing or waiting to be seen, Silim brought himself through into the throng of doctors. Ejek was there too, but he had no time for pleasantries. He was working flat out.

“More inoculations.” He announced, interrupting whatever conversation was going on. He didn’t frankly care. “Also, I need space to set up the radiation emitter.”

The good doctor was disinclined to call the emitter by its acronym. Especially after the mistake he had made when Bila has first introduced it to him. All the equipment had been set up in his lab, ready to receive visitors, when a thought had occurred. If someone had been assimilated and needed radiation treatment, they wouldn’t come to a biology lab, they’d go to sickbay. So Tovarek, who had been helping fine tune the emitter, had to help him pack it up. That way, people who were injured could get help all in one place, and those who had received the treatment would likely need bed rest, so being near a recovery ward made sense.

Looking back and forth, Parnak assessed the visible doors before settling onto the Trill in charge.

“Is there a side space, or office I could use?”

[ William Robert O’Connell (http://fc01.deviantart.net/fs71/f/2014/219/f/7/oconnel_row_01_by_auctor_lucan-d7u6n2x.png) | Main Engineering | Deck 25 | USS Theurgy ]  ^{Attn: @Auctor Lucan  @Absinthe @fiendfall @alphawiz @SummerDawn @FollowTomorrow @Stegro88}

William Robert O’Connell was developing a reputation as a man who could do the impossible.  He had just made a Vulcan angry.

"I will make careful note of this decision, Chief O'Connell," Ensign Cir’Cie promised with the tranquility of Buddha, "and if we make it through this battle alive, I will ensure that you do not retain your position. Because whether this is an attack upon my shortcomings as a victim, that I am an officer, that I am a woman, or even scientist, I am certain there has to be someone better suited to run this Department. Someone who does know how to conduct themselves as a proper Starfleet officer instead of a bigot, regardless the reason for your refusal."

Talk about projecting.  He had expected her to list off her qualifications and talk about how she was certified for this and had cross-trained for that.  He had expected her to make him feel stupid for forgetting that Vulcans age slower than most folks and that she could be older than she looked.  He had expected her to confidently regale him with the story of how she had once rebuilt a plasma injector with stone tools in the rain, during an avalanche, with a broken arm.  She did none of these things.  Instead she had expressed her impotence while giving Billy Bob a peek at her personal demons by playing the race card and making an empty threat.  It was evident that no one wanted her in their department, and that as the only acting department head under the rank of lieutenant she thought she could bully him into compliance. 

Not happening.  She had just demonstrated that she was near the breaking point and prone to second guess him.  He needed her around like his wedding tackle needed a bad rash.

O’Connell broke out in a huge grin.  “Well bless yore heart, ma’am.  Ah certainly hope so!  Ah’m mighty glad tuh hear yew say thet Ensign, ‘cuz Ah wuz uh fixin’ tuh train me uh successor anyhow,” he kindly drawled as he nodded towards Kaylon.  “Sadly, since you’re not in mah chain uh command Ah don’t reckon yew kin help me expedite that process.  Oh well.  Ah appreciate th’ offer though.  And th’ offer fur an extra pair uh hands.  And with all due respect ma’am, if there wuz nothin’ else tuh add, mah door is always open so feel free tuh leave…”

The room shook as a thunderous boom filled main engineering.  Billy Bob lost his balance, staggered forward, and tumbled to the deck missing Cir’Cie by centimeters.  Thankfully most of the people stationed in main engineering were either sitting down or had grabbed ahold of something.  The battle had started, and here he was wasting time trying to pull a weed out from between the deck plates. 

“Damage report!” he barked as he pushed himself off the deck and staggered back to his feet.

”We lost forty two percent of power in shield two and sixty eight percent of power in shield three!” Petty Officer Tenchi Koizumi shouted back.

“Unless yew hear from th’ bridge, reallocate power tuh reinforce them shields!” O’Connell hollered.  “If we lose th’ shields we’re uh gonna have tuh repel borders!  If th’ Borg git onboard we’ll all be cal’culatin’ pi tuh th’ last decimal!”

---

OOC:  I assume that if the story demands that the Borg get onboard shield three takes another hit.

[ Lt. JG Jovela (https://uss-theurgy.com/w/index.php?title=Jovela) | Main Sickbay | Deck 11 | USS Theurgy ]
^{Attn: @Nolan @Doc M. @TWilkins @lisavw @FollowTomorrow @Absinthe @Juzzie}
[Show/Hide]Nurse Jovela - being the Head Nurse since Hylota Vojona was missing - followed the conversation between the Doctors with a worried frown on her face. Given the circumstances, Jovela agreed that the over-eager fighter pilot was not of any greater concern compared to the Borg, and Maya had more or less verified that patient Tancredi had not turned into a Drone. The whereabouts of the lost patient had been accounted for, and the sign that she'd gone to the Fighter Bay was decidedly a good one. By the moons, that's a relief, at least.

She did not enjoy the prospect of euthanasia, not in the slightest, but she found herself numbly agreeing to the sentiment. It still felt wrong. So completely wrong. They were supposed to heal the crew, not kill them, regardless what affliction they had. The Borg, however, was the kind of enemy that challenged everything in terms of protocol and ethics.

A tall Cardassian arrived, together with Lieutenant Tovarek, the former whom Jovela had seen around Sickbay before in the past couple of days, and it seemed he was working on the vaccines. Him being civilian, and Tovarek being a scientist with a specific and urgent duty, it seemed like they might be imposing upon the Doctors in their preparations for the battle, so she stepped forward. "Come, right this way. You can use one of the Med Labs," she said to them giving them a warm smile, before she led the way down the corridor.

That was when the first hit came, and it everyone present were sent stumbling or catching their balance against something. Eyes wide, Jovela tried to catch all the vaccines, in case the Cardassian lost his grip.

It begins, she thought in rising dread, feeling altogether unprepared.

[ Lt. JG Adam Kingston (https://orig00.deviantart.net/1cf3/f/2018/249/c/8/adam_kningston_by_auctor_lucan-dcm5pot.png) | Security Center Lobby | Deck 07 | USS Theurgy ]
^{Attn: @trevorvw @Absinthe @FollowTomorrow @CanadianVet @patches}
[Show/Hide]Not sure what to make of the Romulan who had volunteered, Adam Kingston had watched Kai Akoni - who seemed to be used to the role as Chief of Security - approach the man. While he couldn't hear what Akoni said, it was plain that the Romulan's request had been granted solely because of the circumstances. Of course, the reasons why the man had deserted the fleet were unknown too, but Adam couldn't imagine what circumstances a desertion might be justified...

In any case, he saw this Drauc T'Laus, or whatever his name was, getting a graviton weapon, but since those were to be a last resort, Adam made sure this man - who used to be of the same rank as himself back in the war - was given a Type III phaser rifle as well. Watching the figure in the threadbare clothes through his helmet, he held the weapon towards him. "You remember how to use one of these, right?"

"Yes," rasped the Romulan, soon checking the power level and adjusting his grip. "I had recent practice on Starbase 84, where I aided one of your infiltration teams, and again this morning when Petty Officer Cardamone and I dealt with boarding officers from the Dauntless."

"Excellent. Why don't you head ove-"

That was when the ship shook, that first impact from enemy fire. It was the sign that they had no time left. The Romulan caught him with ease, even if he was wearing an exosuit. It seemed there was merit to the strength of the Vulcan cousins after all.

"All right, move out, now!" called Adam, acting as the right hand of Akoni in making sure all those security areas were covered. He led the way for one team towards the turbolift next the Deputy's office, while others filed out through the exit in the lobby. There were already security guards out there on the ship, but they all needed people to lead them. "When the shields fall, the drones will be aboard, so run!"

The Infested Doctor remained in temporary holding, along with the four guards in front of the dim-lit cell.

---

OOC: As @Doc M. just posted, one area of the shield took a heavy blast by the Borg cube, so in your next post, the second hit strikes, which brings that part of the shields down for long enough to allow Borg drones to beam aboard. After the second hit strikes, this message is heard all over the ship: [Show/Hide]Here comes battle objectives for you all to use in your writing, and you have 7 days to post! Please check off one objective each, and you have full liberty in setting up details,NPCing the people mentioned, and arranging where the drones appear and what they do. Change or adapt these objectives as you wish too, thinking of it as a writing exercise, as long as the overall intent is still to repel these boarders. Have a look! [Show/Hide]
Please bear in mind that while this thread is available for all, you may all start up Supplemental threads too, if that would be your preference. The naming convention of such Supplemental threads would be CH05: S [D06|1110] Insert Title. Looking forward to read the development! 

[ Lieutenant Elro Kobol | Corridors | Deck 7 | Vector 01 | USS Theurgy ] @FollowTomorrow

Elro had barely stepped out of the turbolift when the second jolt resonated through the ship, sending the Doctor sprawling into one of the walls, setting off several dozen commands upon the console he collided with, only to ignore the computer’s bleating as he straightened himself up and broke into a jog. At least this time, they were prepared for a battle with the Borg, or at least, they knew it was coming. People had had chance to have meetings, make plans and put procedures into place, a luxury that he imagined didn't occur for many who fell under fire from the Borg. It didn’t instil the Betazoid with a tremendous amount of confidence, but it was enough to know that the ship surely wouldn’t just throw itself into the gaping maw of death without something of a plan.

Recalling his offer to go to sickbay on Deck 7, he had since reconsidered what had initially sounded like a stellar idea. Elro didn’t even know where the sickbay on Deck 7 was, let alone what it looked like, its state or staffing requirements… But alas, he was pelting down the corridors with as much speed as he felt safe to use, unwilling to bowl into another frantic officer, but also aware that speed was very much of the essence. Whether the Sickbay was empty or full to bursting, he would be needed in either case. There would be more casualties flooding through the doors regardless.

Elro was desperate to reach his destination, to fill his mind with medications and treatments and to not worry about whether the ship would hold against the barrage. The Endeavour had barely lasted half-a-minute against the Borg before they’d been boarded by drones. And the Endeavour had been in fighting fit condition. The Theurgy seemed as though it was falling apart at the seams. Each corridor he cut through had sustained some sort of damage, or had been part way through repairs when the teams had been called away to complete other tasks. He tried to just focus on getting to sickbay, where he could busy himself with treating patients and forget about the was he could feel death breathing down his neck.

His mind fled to the bridge, where Derik would have been, and Elro felt himself tense at the thought. The Bridge would have been the first port of call for any boarding Borg, who would be desperate to seek out and assimilate the control hub without mercy. Then again, the Starfleet crew would also protect their control hub the most vigilantly… Either way, Elro couldn’t help but hope with all of his will that nothing would happen to that damned Trill before Elro got to punish him for being the culprit behind that damned kidney stab. And then the smallest of smiles that dared to tug upon Elro’s lips was quashed by an announcement that he had never imagined he would be forced to hear a second time.

[WE ARE THE BORG. WE WILL ADD YOUR BIOLOGICAL AND TECHNOLOGICAL DISTINCTIVENESS TO OUR OWN. YOUR CULTURE WILL ADAPT TO SERVICE US. RESISTANCE IS FUTILE.]

Then a fleck of green light blossomed in his peripheral vision, reflecting in the light of the console next to him in a way which made Elro’s entire form throb with an unyielding chill that made a cold sweat immediately bead across his brow and a pit of terror open in his gut. As he spun on the spot, he lost his footing and tumbled back against the wall, scrambling up desperately as a Borg drone materialised only a few metres behind him. He expected to either be assimilated or blasted apart by an energy discharge within seconds, but alas, the Drone had other plans.

It tapped its assimilation tubules into the console a few steps from its position and stood still, staring blankly in front of it without any heed being paid to the medical officer next to it. Elro took it as a good omen and broke into a full run, pelting himself down the corridor with his lab-coat billowing behind him as he thanked his own athleticism with all of his will.

So they had been boarded.

“Dr Kobol  to Security.” Elro tapped his combadge as soon as he felt the Drone wouldn’t be able to hunt him down and assimilate him for telling tales. “There’s a drone tapping into a computer access panel on deck 7. I only saw one…” Elro filled in his report, noticing a sign on the wall indicating that he was approaching sickbay and increasing his speed, tapping off to break the comm link. It was security’s job to deal with wayward drones. Elro was hardly intending to come back with a sonic separator and try and take the Borg apart with medical equipment.

Another flash of green before him made Elro tense, though this one wasn’t the same sort of flash. It was a flash of movement that he caught as it barged out of the open doors to Sickbay and thundered straight into the Betazoid, almost knocking him off of his feet as it continued to bolt down the corridor. This one wasn’t Borg. It was an Orion half-wearing a ruined Starfleet uniform whom seemed to be running like the very devil were chasing him. When Elro turned, half expecting to see a group of drones amble out of Sickbay after him, having already assimilated all within, he instead saw two security officers exiting sickbay with phasers raised, evidently hoping to stun down the Orion rather than pursue him.

Was the Orion a prisoner? Perhaps from the Bellerophon?

Elro realised he didn’t care.

He stepped past the two guards and into sickbay, scanning the room for a nurse who might be able to give him some direction as to what the status was in here. It was much smaller in comparison to the main sickbay on vector two, and somehow a much bigger mess. Patients were occupying all of the biobeds, some on makeshift stretchers on the floor, half of them had injuries that Elro would have dreamt of bothering to treat in such a triage situation, yet they were still pawing at their cuts and minor burns like poor orphans.

Great.

“You two.” Elro called to the Security guards who were still flanking the door, hesitant as to whether to pursue the Orion or not. “I’ll need some help moving some of these patients. Nurse, anyone who doesn’t absolutely need to be on a Biobed is going to have to be moved.” He barked orders that were so uncharacteristic of him. He remembered how he’d behaved on the Endeavour, back when the Borg had been taking over the ship. He was chief back then and he needed to appear larger than life. "Anyone who doesn't absolutely need to be taking up space needs to report to their duty station." He paused, noting that he had the attention of a good few of the patients in the room. "We've got Borg aboard."

None of these staff nor patients knew who he was. But the need to appear larger than life, was now more important than ever.

[ Petty Officer Eliska Bremmer | Security Centre Lobby | Deck 07 | USS Theurgy ]

When the word came they would be fighting Borg, once again Eliska Bremmer took a look at her exosuit.  It wasn't the one she'd taken with her when she had been assigned to the Resolve, the one that had seen her through much of the Dominion War and her assignment on the Merrimac, but given how much time she'd spent in the bloody thing lately it was starting to replace her old one in her mind.  It had been battered and singed on Sud Lang; she'd worn it against Klingon boarders, and the left pauldron was brand new, replaced after part of the original one had been shot off by a disruptor blast, and it showed, pristine against the scuffed and stained remainder of that armour.  On her right leg she carried her trusty pistol, which had followed her from Resolve, and across her chest she had a rifle slung there; some people thought hand phasers were sufficient, that rifles were overkill; but to Bremmer, who'd been in entirely too many a scrap, she'd come to truly appreciate the more stable platform and additional firepower a rifle granted over any hand-held version out there. 

And as much as she'd hoped for a real weapon, it would seem it was the officers who took what had to be the most effective small arms for themselves; she did not agree with the idea, but at least the word had been they would be mobile responses.  Well, if that's what the Sir wanted, it wasn't her place to argue with him.  But, it would seem, the Asurian and Scion weapons would come out to play.  They would be limited to the charges they still possessed and the spare power packs that had been taken from their previous owners, and none had been modified yet to be friendlier to Federation training, but they would have to do...  But to her surprise, both she and Taer were detailed with handing out those few functional examples they had on hand, trusting their judgement to such a matter. "McPherson, Sobek, Guesclin, al-Muradi, you four get one of those fancy guns."  The four names she called were some of the very few survivors of Resolve's security department; as their Mistress-at-Arms, she had been intimately familiar with their weapon proficiency tests, but a steady aim wasn't all she was going for; mostly, she had called for four she knew were good shots, but also could keep their heads under stress. 

The remainder, she'd let to Kino to hand out; she knew Theurgy's team much better than she did.  But she did have something to add. "Sir, just a thought; I remember being told 'a weapon ain't gotta be a weapon'.  Odds are there's all sorts of stuff we can use to hurt the Borg they won't see coming; fire extinguishers rated for plasma fires, hull sealant foam, industrial solvents, adhesives, maybe even counter-grav units.  Depending on how much breakage we're willing to..."

She was interrupted as the ship shook violently, and Mister Kingston gave the order to disperse to their assignments.  The ship shook again, and again much more violently  And then, the message everyone in Starfleet knew and thoroughly dreaded was heard across the ship even as the intruder alert klaxons sounded. 

[WE ARE THE BORG. WE WILL ADD YOUR BIOLOGICAL AND TECHNOLOGICAL DISTINCTIVENESS TO OUR OWN. YOUR CULTURE WILL ADAPT TO SERVICE US. RESISTANCE IS FUTILE.]

"Delta-3, with me!"  Bremmer called out her order to detail assigned to her.  However, the sudden arrival of boarders meant they would have to fight their way to their assigned positions.  And hers happened to be much further down, in Engineering's approaches. "Check your fire, single shots only, and make them count!"

---

[ Commander Carrigan Trent | Stellar Cartography | Deck 15 | USS Theurgy ]

Commander Carrigan Trent had been working furiously.  Starfleet never truly put much faith in alternative modes of combat.  Phasers and torpedoes, and good ship-handling were the mainstay of fighting, and beyond maneuvering to exploit an incidental weakness, as a rule Starfleet's tactical doctrine was not the most imaginative.  As such, there were rather few people who made a specialty of actively hunting down for flaws and weaknesses to expose, ways to degrade the enemy's ability to fight effectively without actually damaging them, or to create vulnerabilities in more creative ways. 

And he was one of those few people.  I had all begun what seemed several lifetimes ago under a Captain who viewed his ship's tactical systems and personnel as wasted space where more science gear could be strapped in, and generally did not provide a very good environment for an Ensign Carrigan Trent, appointed A/CTO of the USS Fermi straight out of the Academy, to develop conventional tactical skills.  But, he did learn to work sensors in interesting ways, and that had been the start of his forays into unconventional uses of sensors, and that evolved in his research in electronic warfare, which had culminated in his creation of Soup Sandwich and reverse-engineering Calamity's own sensor-degrading technology (which, in the timeline which she'd come from, he had actually been the one to invent and design) to fit into Theurgy's own defensive measures. 

And now, he was racing against the clock to fight the Borg. 

Adapting Soup Sandwich to attack them had been easy enough.  Granted, it wasn't tested and much would be left to the program's own code, deeply rooted in the Borg's own core programming.  But the problem would be to deliver that payload to the enemy.  A direct transmission would never work; modifying an EMP torpedo to disseminate the code as a burst of data may not be viable.  So that left breaking into the Borg's communication (or hive mind) protocols, or injecting it as a sensor return.  And he could not prepare for that, not fully, until they would be engaged...  Which would impose a very serious time constraint.

But still, he focused.  Truth be told, his concentration was less of a requirement of the task at hand than a wall against the images of Heather that kept assailing him.  Her smiling and lovely; her being torn apart by Savi experiments; her laughter and tears of joy; her shrieks of terror and agony; her hand delicate between his fingers; her hand, bloodied and broken, reaching for him in despair.  Only years of his mental discipline and the promise to actively seek to rescue the crew were enough to dam this flood enough for him to be able to do his job. 

When the ship went into action, he could feel guilt knifing through his gut; he should be on the Bridge.  There was a Security Officer in the center seat, and a painfully green Operations Officer as XO; Marquez was a solid enough tactical officer, but not particularly imaginative, and he had no idea who would be controlling the small craft in the engagement.  But he knew the events at the rendezvous point had put a knife in his ability to be obeyed, and if anyone doubted his orders, even in spite of themselves, it would spell doom for everyone.  Theurgy shook and bucked under the impact of weapons, and before long the intruder alert sounded across the ship, followed by the impossibly cold multipartite voice of the Collective making its dreadful promises. 

But still, he worked, looking at raw data from the sensor take, trying to find a way to inject this new version of Soup Sandwich into the Collective's mind.  Even without Thea to drive them, Theurgy's computers were some of the most advanced the Federation had ever deployed; but without the AI's specialized code, it was far more sluggish, unable to make the leaps of logic and deductive reasoning that would infinitely speed up the process.  And then, he heard it. 

There was weapons fire outside in the corridor, and the doors opened to a harried crewman.  "Commander Trent!  Borg heading this way, you need to get out of there!"

Looking back from his console,  the erstwhile XO's eyes narrowed towards the young woman.  Borg incoming?  He had an idea, one that made his eyes gleam with a cold, murderous light and let his normally impassive face twist into a brief rictus that spoke of ruthlessness and dispassionate killing.  "Crewman, your name?" 

"Crewman Petra Vansen, Sir.  We need to get out of here."   So young, Trent thought.  Twenty, maybe twenty-two?  "Petra, I am going to give you an order you're not going to like.  Some of your team well might die, but if you can buy me three minutes, it will give us a fighting chance against the Borg."  The sandy-blonde woman nodded.  She had recognized the iron in that voice, that cold necessity.  "You and your team will fight like madmen.  You will make it look like you are between the Borg and something truly valuable.  You will lead them straight to me." 

Grey eyes widened in surprise at this order, but there was another nod.  "And when I tell you to break contact, you run like hell."

"We'll do what we can, Sir."  The voice was a little shaky, but it was enough.  Petra Vansen was one more name that would be committed to Trent's memory, likely a face that would appear in the long list of those who'd died at his command.  But he would remember it, and he would look up the members of her team. 

First, he brought up something the Borg would love.  To a PADD, he downloaded this new version of Soup Sandwich and he purged all data from the console itself.  On the massive screens, he brought up the current map, and a projection of Starfleet's deployment orders that was six months out of date; he changed the timestamps so it would look to be no more than a few hours old, and with practiced ease, he reached under the console and physically ripped out the connection to the ship's computers before closing the panel.  And from the PADD, he transferred and ran his new program to the console itself.  The trap was set.

Outside in the hallway, weapons were shrieking as the detail that was there was indeed fighting like madmen.  He did not know how many were there, but he knew it was far less than the dozen or so one may have guessed from the volume of weapons fire alone.  And then he heard the panicked scream.  "They've adapted!"  It was time. 

"Vansen!  You and your people get out of there," he bellowed out.  They were close enough they would have heard, and so would have the Borg.  "I'll be out shortly!" 

That too, was part of the trap he was laying. 

Weapons fire stopped, and he saw forms, Starfleet personnel, run by the door for safety, and then the doorway was filled by the inexorable advanced of a pair of drones.  They quickly considered what they were seeing, and red dots from their implants fixed on the console.  He had them!  As they advanced, the human looked over the side.  It wasn't that long a way down, and it would provide an escape... and he had to make it look right.  As they advanced, he still worked the console, furiously punching at keys that would do nothing save make noise, and then, when hey were halfway to him, he went over the side and let himself down, his feet connecting with the deck just as the assimilation tubules of one of the two drones dove into the console for them to assimilate what was essentially disinformation, and Soup Sandwich. 

The tubules withdrew from the panel, and the drone stood still before it was seized by a brutal shudder.  Was the code in?  Its companion did the same, and both stood confused for a moment. 

Time to test if it worked.  The phaser had Trent's waist had been brought to him, compliments of Wenn Cinn, while he had been on his way to Stellar Cartography; a symbol of a degree of trust, he imagined.  It had been modified to rotate its modulations but had not been updated since it was brought to him, and he wasted no time in disabling that particular circuit so he might get two shots, perhaps three before he would have to fiddle with it.  So he took aim at the first drone and fired not once, but twice.  The first shot, carefully aimed, struck one arm and a shower of sparks erupted; the second was at the center of its mass, and it collapsed on impact.  The second drone, identifying a threat, went over the side of its own volition and moved for the human.  By now, it ought to have adapted... 

He fired a third time, without adjusting his weapon...

The drone fell, a neat hole punched clean through the base of its neck. 

It worked!  Which meant now, he had to make some noise with the people in charge.  "Bridge, this is Trent.  Weapon is away and the Borg are vulnerable.  I don't know how long I bought you, but make it count!"

Then, he considered his options.  He was at loose ends right now, but there was much work to be done.  "I'm on my way to the Bridge, advise if you need me elsewhere."

---

[ Petty Officer Eliska Bremmer | Deck 22 | USS Theurgy ]

As it turned out, Bremmer had been diverted on her way down to Engineering.  The Borg were making some advances on Deck 22, and it looked like they were trying to establish some sort of a control node in one of the labs.  That had just become an advanced priority, and what had followed had been a savage room-to-room, corridor-to-corridor advance to contact, followed by a fighting retreat that was only kept from being a rout by her relentless refusal to break, and her constant calling for her people to hold the line and maintain discipline. 

And at the last junction, their phasers had become useless.  They would need time to reset the modulation coils, get them to work for at least a few shots each, but time was not something they had anymore.  So, she leveled her Asurian/Savi weapon, and he let them have it.  The concentrated graviton beams were shearing through drones like a meat cleaver, but hers was only one weapon on the line in this location, and eventually she would be overwhelmed.  But, still, some sought to fight.  And just then, she saw the loveliest sight she could have imagine. 

A phaser rifle shrieked, and the lurid glow of the bolt slammed into a drone that seemed to have paused for a moment, but there was no greenish glow as a shield took the hit.  Instead there was a shower of sparks.  And another.  And another.  And before long, her entire team and a rag-tag group of her shipmates they'd been shepherding away from the Borg opened fire with effect.  "Bremmer to Security Ops!  I don't know what just happened, but the Borg down here are wide open!  I am going to set a base of fire, and push back towards my last objective.  Bremmer out!"

She looked at her team, and she nodded.  "Don't know what just happened or how long this'll last, but let them have it! Push through!  Push through!"

[ PO2 Kino Taer | Deck 7 | Security Centre > Deck 15 | Stellar Cartography > Deck 16 | Stellar Cartography | USS Theurgy ] @FollowTomorrow @CanadianVet

The Trill did not quite remember the time spent in switching to battle gear prior to this briefing, her mind primarily occupied with the prospect of taking on the Borg. Several potential tactical plans were worked through based on her training and experience from the Dominion War, all of them being rejected out of hand due to being unsuited for the battlefield. She couldn’t fight a guerilla war on a ship where every meter lost meant more potential recruits for an implacable enemy that couldn’t be blooded to submission. Fighting on a starship meant that her favored method of booby traps and kill zones would likely run into resistance from command who would favor a ship kept very much intact, thank you. It just got worse from there and that left her with going back to the default position of hoping the officers who went through all that fancy schooling knew what they were doing. Kino really did not want a repeat of the times when her squad simply had to hold the line regardless of enemy strength, but she supposed there weren’t many other options when it came to enemies like the Borg or the Dominion.

So she found herself standing with the rest of Security in her exosuit, armed with the standard gear of Type II pistol and Type III rifle and a few hidden treats for worst case scenario, listening to a Security officer whose own superior officer had threatened to do serious damage to the ship less than a week ago talk to some Romulan who had apparently deserted Starfleet a while ago.

Desertion sounds pretty appealing right about now compared to the fucking Borg.

Her name was called out for one of those getting a “handheld graviton weapon”, whatever the fuck that was, and to apparently also hand out a few of the remainder to sharpshooters. Kino was honestly not too sure why she was being asked to pick out sharpshooters, but enough names did come to mind, including Bremmer who was happily getting one anyway and also picking out sharpshooters. She slung her rifle to her left shoulder, using her cybernetic hand to beckon four NCOs in the crowd behind her for their graviton weapons. They were all Dominion War veterans that she recalled either serving with or watching them practice in the shooting range, each impressing her with their affinity for precise shots. It also helped that two of them were also decent one night stands. She assumed the idea was that these would be spread out to different teams covering vital points of the ship.

“Remember, use these only after your phasers stop working. They’re an ace in the hole.”

After handing out the fourth one, her eyes wandered over to the horned woman whom she saw on the bridge earlier. Kino didn’t know her, but she had taken time to at least get her name and a brief overview of what she was from another security officer. Apparently, Cardamone was an Asurian and her people had also boarded the ship and left these weapons behind. Taer figured the other woman was probably suited for one too, so she grabbed two more – one for herself and one for this Dyan Cardamone. The Trill walked over to the Asurian and wordlessly offered one of them to her.

When the crewman got around to handing her the PADD with her assignment, Kino giggled a bit at the words shown there. Her task was to take a squad to the Fighter Assault Bay and there was a note there that it had been a consistent target for boarding teams so to be vigilant. It seemed a bit of a redundant message to the veteran since the Borg weren’t exactly discriminating in boarding targets in the first place, from what she had heard.

Her musing was interrupted by the effects of the ship taking a hit and Kingston’s call for everyone to get going. Kino opened her team’s channel to rally them to follow her lead out of the door and to the turbolifts. One by one, the teams boarded turbolifts to disperse throughout the ship and hers boarded with another those destination was close by theirs. They hadn’t quite arrived to Deck 16 when the second hit came, worse than the first.

The lights in the turbolift turned off momentarily before being replaced by the emergency lighting as its forward momentum was abruptly arrested. Taer and the other team leader wasted no time after recovering their balance to order their teams through the emergency door to gain access to the turbolift shaft. After a quick discussion to coordinate movements, the other team broke off to gain access to deck 14 while Taer directed her team to go one further to deck 15. The turbolifts would just be a kill zone if they stuck to it and Kino intended to go through the Stellar Cartography labs to get to Deck 16. It was a route that meant less of a chance at running into Borg in a smaller space.

Mercifully, Borg didn’t greet them at the doors from the turbolift shaft to deck 15 but she could hear screams and phaser fire not too far ahead. Evidently, one of the teams assigned to this deck was fighting like hell. The armored petty officer pulled the last of her team through the manually opened doors and paused to consider her options, but only for a moment. It wasn’t like there was a massive list of them, and it really only narrowed down to one when a pair of Borg rounded the corner. A brief but intense fusillade of phaser fire downed one and literally disarmed the other. She executed the other with her rifle as they passed over the temporary obstacle.

Just like the simulations. First wave of boarders is always easier than you’d think.

Her instructors for the Borg boarding simulations always stressed that. They urged those in the course to not let it go to their heads when the initial boarders inevitably got mowed down. It always took less time than security officers assumed for the Borg to adapt and the Borg would always have numbers and superior firepower on their side. It was also useful advice, it turned out, for fighting the Dominion’s Jem’Hadar.

“They’ve adapted!”

Useful announcement, that. Weapons fire ceased and the exosuit began registering the approaching forms as the team already on the deck fled their post rather than meet their ends. Taer didn’t blame them. She repositioned her team to cover them but they came up without Borg following them. Apparently, something else must have caught the Borg’s attention.

“Petty Officer 2nd class Kino Taer, heading down to the FAB. This turbolift is out. Report, Crewman.”

The blonde woman needed a moment to catch her breath before grey eyes locked onto the faceplate of Kino’s helmet.

“Crewman Petra Vansen. We were guarding Stellar Cartography. Commander Carrigan Trent was doing something inside. He ordered us to hold the line and then break off at his command.” She looked around behind her and a frown creased the crewman’s face. “He was supposed to follow us.”

“Alright, I plan on going through there anyway. You and your team catch your breath here and then fall back to your secondary positions.”

“Careful, they’ve adapted.”

“I heard. Squad, on me."

The five of them left Petra and her remaining team members behind as they jogged down the hall. Stellar Cartography was less than a few minutes away from the turbolift and so it took no real time before they had to start navigating through bodies, first Borg and then a group of unlucky crewmen. One of them groaned and then stirred. This got him Taer’s undivided attention and she watched as evidence of assimilation sprouted through his uniform and on his face. Apparently, his mind still lingered on and there was a look of horror and pain on his face.

“Cambridge!”

One of her team recognized him, clearly. Kino closed her eyes briefly before reopening them and aiming her rifle at his head.

“Taer, wai-“

A single shot erased what was left of Steve before the team member could say more. Her exosuit was registering weapons fire inside the lab even as his body settled on the floor.

“He was gone, Telford.”

The man who spoke up didn’t bother responding and his exosuit made it hard to read any facial expressions he may have had. Kino didn’t bother dwelling on it. There were other matters at play. Her suit’s sensors had registered weapons fire during the execution, but it had been brief. She motioned for her team to enter the Stellar Cartography lab proper.

“Got bodies. Borg.”

“Any sign of Trent?”

“Negative.”

“Hop down then. We need to find him and verify his status.”

Kino hopped over the railing, trusting in her suit to cushion the fall as she rolled for the landing. It wasn’t far, but at least now they were on Deck 16. Before them stood the unmistakable silhouette of a taller male human. He wore a command uniform and she could just about see the triple pips on his collar.

“Commander Trent, I take it,” Taer said, her voice taking on a tinge of amusement. “Good to see you alive. Turbolifts look to be down and you need to be somewhere a little safer than this room.”

[ Lt Zelosa Ejek | Main Sickbay | Deck 11 | Vector 02 | USS Theurgy ]

Before Ejek even had the chance to think, the ship rocked. It threw her heart out of her chest, so for a second it felt like she had no heartbeat and she would die right there. Scared, terrified, horrified—she was all those things, but as she regained her footing and saw the faces around her, she decided she would not allow those feelings. They would pull down the functioning of this ship, and that could be the key to staying alive.

She righted herself, straightened her skirt, and heard Parnak. She didn’t have to see him to know he was there. She wished he warmed her heart like he had this morning.
“My office.” Both her and Jovela spoke at the same time, both offering them spaces, so Ejek felt the need to clarify as she stepped away from the center and began to walk towards the Cardassian. “It serves no purpose should sickbay overflow except as space. A medlab at least has some use.” She began to scoop up inoculations into her arms, taking a few trays off Parnak’s. She would help hand them out, which was the best she could do given her skill set.

“I could show you the way.” She met Parnak’s eyes. She hoped he didn’t see how scared she was. In some ways, she hoped he did.

---

[  PO Dyan Cardamone/Sar-unga Neleo | Security Center Lobby | Deck 07 | USS Theurgy ] @TWilkins

Kingston did not need to tell Dyan to move it more than once. The moment she heard the command, she was ready to go. Kino came by and offered her a graviton weapon, exactly what she needed. It felt right in her arms.
“Thanks!” She called out, and began her sprint towards her goal, only sometimes remembering not to run over others. We are the borg, they say. We will add your biological and--”
"Dr Kobol  to Security.”

Dyan’s musings on the borg were interrupted by an announcement. They’d been boarded already, and they were trying to get into the ship itself first. Smart, she thought. Her goal could wait, she figured, especially in the face of boarders getting ahold of the ship computers.
“I’ve got the drone accessing computers on deck seven!” She replied, and changed her direction. Fear still had her, but she had a job to do.

…
[ PO Dyan Cardamone/Sar-unga Neleo | Corridors | Deck 7 | Vector 01 | USS Theurgy ]

It didn’t take long for Dyan to close in on the borg’s position, narrowed down by the coordinates of Dr Kobol ’s badge when he last contacted security. Sure enough, there was the drone, working away dutifully. She couldn’t tell how much had been lost, but what she could tell was that it wasn’t currently seeing her as a target. She switched to her phaser rifle and shot at it. Of course, the shot did nothing to it physically. The borg adapted, as they do. What it did do was turn it’s head, once a human maybe? It’s  red eye met hers.

The visual scan the drone performed provided data to the collective, data it had never seen before. Tail whipping, horns, white hair and skin paler than milk. A new specimen, with no number designated to it yet. More than that, it was hostile. The drone turned from it’s work to face the woman, beginning it’s slow march. Despite all the knowledge the borg had no doubt accumulated, nobody had yet taught the simple borg drone to run. All Dyan had to do was avoid the shots from it’s arm, the one it was slowly raising. Easy enough, she supposed. She fired another shot at the exact same frequency as before, knowing it wouldn’t work, but it was actually sort of fun to tease the drones.
“Come get me! Come get this juicy piece of ass!” She taunted, leading it back a ways, around a corner, into a doorway. As she predicted, it followed her pas the doorway.

She was in an airlock. It was a tight squeeze in here, and she didn’t like being in such close quarters. She knew the drone would know exactly where she was too. It didn’t care much. It operated under the assumption that it would win, regardless of whether this one drone was lost or not. She saw it enter the doorway and stand there, aiming at her. Shit, it wouldn’t walk all the way in if it didn’t have to. She had to think fast.

She moved quickly and nearly missed a shot by her head. She felt her hair buzzed by it. From crouching, she adjusted her sindt to it’s second stance, an uncommon stance that had it pointing forward as an extension of her arm. Then, she lunged at the drone, blade forward. It plunged into...flesh? Metal? She felt some squish, but no blood. Whatever. She yanked the drone into the airlock with her, kicked it clean off her blade, and ran as fast as she could out the airlock. Slam the doors shut, punch in the override code, space that bitch.

She actually didn’t think it’d work. She watched the drone be sucked out into space. She kept watching it, just to be sure it was gone. She kept watching it, and watching it…

That is, until a flash of green caught her eye, and she began to turn--

[ Dr Amelya Rez | Main Sickbay | Deck 11 | USS Theurgy ]
@Auctor Lucan   @TWilkins  @lisavw   @FollowTomorrow  @Absinthe   @Doc M. @Lex Dalton

Before the chaos erupted Kobol  had asked a question which Amelya had to answer. The use of euthanasia on patients that would be too far gone to the Borg assimilation process. It was a tough call to make and Amelya looked at the gathered doctors as she bounced the idea around in her head. "We've all sworn an oath, correct? To save as much lives as we can. We'll treat the infected with any of the vaccines that we have left. Should they be infected and specifically ask to be released of their future live... I think we should respect it, though make sure they understand what it means. What the ramifications are and that there will be no way back. Patients will have the chance to choose for life termination if they want to. For patients who are too far gone, those who have succumbed to the Hive mind, I think the safest option will be to terminate their life as they'd pose a threat for everyone else present. Though I do not expect any of you to terminate anyone if it doesn't stroke with your beliefs or your code of conduct as a physician." she concluded as she looked at her fellow officers.

Th call had been made and Parnak arrived along with lieutenant Tovarek with the vaccines. She gave a nod tot he gathered staff "Time to move people. We'll have lots of work soon enough." she concluded before she dismissed those present. She watched the two scientists with the vaccines and got a short briefing of what they'd do and how to best use them. Rez began to vaccinate anyone in the Main sickbay to prevent any further problems should the infection spread.

After that it didn't take long before the ship began to rock and soon enough the message was heard.

[WE ARE THE BORG. WE WILL ADD YOUR BIOLOGICAL AND TECHNOLOGICAL DISTINCTIVENESS TO OUR OWN. YOUR CULTURE WILL ADAPT TO SERVICE US. RESISTANCE IS FUTILE.]

Regardless of what happened next, Rez knew that it would be another chaotic shift in Sickbay "Rez to all medical stations, prepare for casualties."

Lt Kaylon Jeen | Main Engineering | USS Thurgy |Attn @Doc M. @Auctor Lucan


"and if we make it through this battle alive, I will ensure that you do not retain your position. Because whether this is an attack upon my shortcomings as a victim, that I am an Officer, that I am a woman, or even scientist, I am certain there has to be someone better suited to run this Department. Someone who does know how to conduct themselves as a proper Starfleet officer instead of a bigot, regardless the reason for your refusal."

Kaylon looked up as he heard Cir'Cie speaking to Billy Bob.  Then he heard O'Connell's thick accent reply, a distinct note of disdain in his voice.


"Well bless yore heart, ma'am.  Ah certainly hope so!  Ah'm mighty glad tuh hear yew say thet Ensign, 'cuz Ah wuz uh fixin' tuh train me uh successor anyhow," he kindly drawled as he nodded towards Kaylon. 

In a move that would make any Vulcan proud, Kaylon's eyebrow went up, as the acting Chief Engineer continued.

"Sadly, since you're not in mah chain uh command Ah don't reckon yew kin help me expedite that process.  Oh well.  Ah appreciate th' offer though.  And th' offer fur an extra pair uh hands.  And with all due respect ma'am, if there wuz nothin' else tuh add, mah door is always open so feel free tuh leave..."

Kaylon was just stepping forward to intervene.  He had been keeping his head down and avoiding the scene in order to spare Ensign Cir'Cie any discomfort or awkwardness, but hearing an NCO speaking that way to an officer really got under his spots.  Until that moment, he had nothing but respect for O'Connell.  Now he found himself reevaluating his impression and opinion of the man. 

Just as he opened his mouth to get their attention and give the man what for, the ship shook and Kaylon was knocked off his feet.  Dressing down an enlisted man for insubordination would have to wait.  Pulling himself to his feet he scrambled back to his panel and pulled up the shield diagnostics. 

"Unless yew hear from th' bridge, reallocate power tuh reinforce them shields!" O'Connell hollered.  "If we lose th' shields we're uh gonna have tuh repel borders!  If th' Borg git onboard we'll all be cal'culatin' pi tuh th' last decimal!"

The shields stabilized as the petty officer rerouted power.  Thinking quickly, Kaylon tried to come up with a way to reinforce the shields.  Then it hit him.  He'd done something similar during the Dominion War.  It had to work.  If not, O'Connell was right, and at least he'd know a lot more digits of Pi than he currently did.

"Ensign Cir'Cie!" he called out.  "Can you give me a hand here?" Inwardly he thought, if I can't take the time to give O'Connell what for, at least my actions can let him know what I think of his attitude.  As she approached, he simply said, "Please keep an eye on the shield harmonics frequencies, and power stabilization levels.  Let me know if the frequencies vary by more than 2 percent!" 

Turning to O'Connell, he said quickly, "I think I can reinforce the shields using a harmonic resonance pulse.  If we tune shield emitters two and four to inverse frequencies of emitter three, and boost power to three cutting back the power on two and four, it should strengthen the grid in that area enough to withstand a few extra hits!"

He would have preferred to just do it, but for now at least, this was still O'Connell's engine room so he had to follow protocol.  While he waited for him to make the call, he turned back to the panel next to Cir'Cie and started making the calculations.  "See if you can bring the frequency variance to within 1.5 percent.  That should help scatter their disruptors a bit.  Anything more than that though, and it can rip the boosted shields apart."

Calculations made, he looked up at O'Connell  "Well, Chief? What do you say?"

[ William Robert O’Connell (http://fc01.deviantart.net/fs71/f/2014/219/f/7/oconnel_row_01_by_auctor_lucan-d7u6n2x.png) | Main Engineering | Deck 25 | USS Theurgy ]  ^{Attn: @Auctor Lucan  @Absinthe @fiendfall @alphawiz @SummerDawn @FollowTomorrow @Stegro88}

“Sounds good tuh me sir!” O’Connell smiled sheepishly, his voice loud enough to be heard across the entirety of main engineering without the benefit of a loudspeaker or an intercom.  He didn’t even spell ‘sir’ with a ‘c’ and a ‘u’ either, a definite sign of respect.  He turned to address his staff, and his voice remained at the same impressive volume.  “Okay people, listen up!  For those of yew who haven’t been inner-duced tuh him, this here is Lieutenant Kaylon Jeen, the chief engineerin’ ossifer uh th’ Cayuga an’ more than qualified tuh give yuh orders!  He’s uh gonna be helpin’ out ‘round here an’ savin’ our tails, so unless yuh hear from me or Wenn Cinn yew kin take whut he says as gospel!  Dew whut he says ‘cuz he knows whut he’s uh talkin’ about!”  He glanced back at Kaylon and finally spoke with what could be considered an ‘indoor voice’.  “Over tuh yew, Lieutenant.”

A second crack of thunder was heard as the deck abruptly tilted seventeen degrees before righting itself.  As O’Connell picked himself off the deck he heard Petty Officer Tenchi Koizumi shout ”We’ve lost sixty one percent of shield two and shield three is down!  I repeat, shield three is down!”

“Dagnabbit,” Billy Bob grunted.  “Lew-tenant, take over here.  There’s uh li’l errand Ah gotta run,” he said to Kaylon.  Ensign Cir’Cie seemed to have become invisible to him at this time.

With those words he marched away from the master systems display table (http://memory-alpha.wikia.com/wiki/Master_systems_display_table), around the warp core, and into his office, staggering slightly as the ship was hit by enemy fire again.  Once in his office, he tapped on the keypad on the greyish black plastisteel wardrobe that was placed against the wall behind his desk.  Opening its double doors revealed motley assortment of weapons as well as a collection of tools both modern and archaic. 

The first thing he extracted from the wardrobe was a series of straps covered in small disc shaped nodules and secured by a belt that he proceeded to put on.  This wasn’t merely a set of webgear designed to carry weapons and equipment, it was a device used for personal protection that used subspace harmonics to generate a personal force field.  Called SAFTI gear (https://uss-theurgy.com/w/index.php?title=SAFTI_Gear), short for Subspace Armor Field Tactical Integration gear, the system had been juryrigged by O’Connell and his friend and shipmate the late Senior Chief Petty Officer Calvin Reagar.  Like the personal armor systems of the past, it wasn’t perfect.  This jury rigged system was only capable of protecting a standard sized person for over ten minutes from weak attacks like physical blows or slow moving projectiles. Based on the way it performed during his mission to Starbase 84, Billy Bob was confident that the system would protect a wearer from shots from phasers, disruptors, and other particle beam weapons for two minutes at best assuming the weapon was fired at standard settings. A beam that could disintegrate a human would likely get through in seconds.  The rig had saved the lives of his teammates, ensuring that phaser beams set on kill only inflicted minor injuries accompanied by a heavy stun effect.  With luck it would keep any intruders from Borgafying him.

The belt had been modified to hold a number of holsters that he filled with pistols of varying types.  A Klingon disruptor pistol was placed in a holster on his left hip while a type-II pulse phase pistol filled the holster on his right.  A genuine fully functional replica of a .45 single action revolver known as the ‘1873 Colt Peacemaker’ was added to the rear holster as an afterthought.  Any of these weapons would only be good for about one or two shots, assuming that no one had ever shot a Borg with one of these before.  If somebody had, each of these weapons would be as effective as foul language.  Finally he picked up picked up a rifle shaped type III phaser that had been modified to fire nadion beams at random frequencies.  This weapon would probably be good for up to six shots at the most but probably for a lot less.  It was with utmost hesitancy that he passed up his archaic shotgun.  That weapon would probably only be good for three shots at the most before the Borg modified the force fields of all of its drones the galaxy over and took too long between shots to be useful.

That’s when he heard it:  Somehow the Borg had tapped into the gorram intercom system.

[ WE ARE THE BORG.  WE WILL ADD YOUR BIOLOGICAL AND TECHNOLOGICAL DISTINCTIVENESS TO OUR OWN.  YOUR CULTURE WILL ADAPT TO SERVICE US.  RESISTANCE IS FUTILE. ]

Opening the door to return to main engineering, O’Connell brandished his phaser rifle while striking a heroic pose.  “Iz that uh fact now?” he shouted defiantly.  “Ah reckon we’ll jest see about that!”   

---

[ Maya (https://uss-theurgy.com/w/index.php?title=Dr._Maya) | Primary Surgical Suite | Main Sickbay | Deck 11 | Vector 02 | USS Theurgy ] ^{Attn: @Auctor Lucan  @TWilkins @lisavw @FollowTomorrow @Absinthe}

[ WE ARE THE BORG.  WE WILL ADD YOUR BIOLOGICAL AND TECHNOLOGICAL DISTINCTIVENESS TO OUR OWN.  YOUR CULTURE WILL ADAPT TO SERVICE US.  RESISTANCE IS FUTILE. ]

Maya heard that ghostly chorus of voices just as she was receiving her inoculation from Amelya.  Her eyes narrowed as her mouth became a thin hard line.  Even for a dispassionate Vulcan, the timing was unsettling.

---

OOC:  You just know that if the Borg beam into main engineering, some of O’Connell’s extra weapons will end up Kaylon and Cir’Cie’s hands.

[ Lt. JG Jovela | Main Sickbay | Deck 11 | USS Theurgy ]
Attn: @Auctor Lucan   @TWilkins  @lisavw   @FollowTomorrow  @Absinthe   @Doc M.

[Show/Hide]
[WE ARE THE BORG. WE WILL ADD YOUR BIOLOGICAL AND TECHNOLOGICAL DISTINCTIVENESS TO OUR OWN. YOUR CULTURE WILL ADAPT TO SERVICE US. RESISTANCE IS FUTILE.]

Jovela felt her hands shake as the Borgs words rushed over her like a tide of dread, she looked over at Dr Amelya Rez and bit her lip.

"I don't think I can, I mean I..." Her words trailed off and smoothed her uniform down with her hands to stop them shaking, with a sharp intake of breath she steadied herself.

This was no time to loose my nerve, people could die. Straighten up and stop being a coward, save lives, that's your job girl. She bit her lip hard and hurried over to one of the bio beds, checking the readouts and the medical equipment there, the medical tools all laid out gave her a sense of order and renewed purpose. Reaching into her loose hair she grabbed it and twisted it into a knot tying it back against her skull, her black hair dropping into a makeshift ponytail.

She hurried to the next Bio bed and checked the equipment there, if and when the casualties started coming in a missing tool could be the difference in us loosing a patient. "No, not on my watch. I'm not going to let the crew die." She pushed down her fear and stood to attention, awaiting the first of the casualties and hoping no Drones would step into Main Sickbay.

[ Y'Lev | Corridors | Deck 7 | USS Theurgy ] @FollowTomorrow

A voice that echoed through the depths of the ship in a cacophonous chorus of mechanised baritone had made an announcement that seemed to have rocked the crew even more so than the energy barrage that had evidently struck the shields only a few seconds prior. It appeared they had engaged in a space battle. But their foe was unnerving enough that even the stiff faced security guards flanking him had taken a moment to exchange a glance, a reciprocation of reasurance so enthralling for yhe pair that it didn’t take much for Y’Lev to vault himself out of the biobed and make a break for the door. Terellian slugs had faster reaction times. It had been Y’Lev’s assumption that the fear that had seemingly knocked the officers into a daze, would keep them suspended enough to facilitate a particularly easy escape; as usual, his assumption was the correct one.

The Orion didn’t perceive the same sort of fear that the crew had seemingly become wracked with. The Borg, or whatever the transmission had identified itself as, were a species he wasn’t particularly familiar with. However, despite his obliviousness, Y’Lev could understand why the Theurgy's crew might have had good reason to he anxious. One of the general orders of the Orion Syndicate, was that upon encountering a race known as the Borg, the agent in question was to find the most efficient and quickest means of suicide they could manage, usually by activating the poisoned capsule implanted behind their back molar.

Whilst the Syndicate often prefered an agent to die as opposed to capture and possible interrogation, suicide upon encounter was a new policy altogether. And naturally, Y’Lev had just a few problems with that particular instruction. Firstly, he was one particular Orion whom wasn’t planning on killing himself for any race unless he’d lost absolutely all chance of escape, and he was breaking under interogation, just like standard protocal dictated, no matter what 'special orders' his superiors had ordered. Secondly, he didn’t actually have the poisoned capsule fitted behind his back molar; he’d removed it in the bathroom of a nightclub on Risa in order to stelthily dispose a particularly irritating Vulcan who was attempting to use logic as a means to demean Y’Lev’s haircut, in favor of a flat fringe Vulcan abomination. And that was a crime worth killing for.

Y’Lev collided with a teal-chest as he sprinted down the corridor, but the Orion paid the man little heed, hoping that he would at least delay the security guards from their pursuit as he fled across the deck. He found Starfleet construction obligingly irritating, with their lack of creativity in design, forcing the Orion to hope that the constant repeat of the same white-washed wall panels were an indication of progress. Would it truly have been such a grave offence to get a few Bolian decorators in to spruce the place up a little? A few murals and some silken overhangs would have been a delight.

His train of thought was distracted from the internal ambiance of the USS Theurgy when he heard a gravelly voice that unconsciously drew out a low growling sound from the back of his throat. A taunt, a crude, witless, taunt, much akin to a taunt that a goat would make were it capable. He mumbled something illegible to an onlooker in High Kolari, before making a few hesitant steps around to a corner.

Of course.

The goat woman was present once again, Cardamone or whatever she had been referred to by the security team, fiddling with the controls on a panel that no doubt had some ridiculously overcomplicated functionality attached to it. Regardless of her intention, he had no great desire to stick around and rile her hackles, and as such, he darted past the corridor she was along, instead veering left and shooting down another, identical, corridor that he hoped to find an access port to the jefferies tubes inside.

Y’Lev wasn’t quite sure of his plan. He’d hoped that in a combat situation, the security around key areas might be diverted to deal with other emergencies. Of course, it was also entirely possible that those areas would be reinforced with additional teams who’d make any sort of incursion impossible for him to even attempt. He supposed he’d just have to try and find that out with his own eyes…

He took a fleeting glance behind him, just checking that he wasn’t being followed by any goats galloping along through the halls. His odd-coloured eyes furrowed at the emptiness behind him, almost as if he didn’t believe that he’d gotten lucky with his attempt, before they widened with a glare of undiluted shock. His foot had caught on something and he found himself sprawled down on the floor of the deck, something firm yet malleable caught under his legs.

Rolling across the floor to view the obstruction, he saw a red-chest laying stiff against the floor, his breathing ragged and his expression waxy. Y’Lev’s first instinct was to give the man a kick for laying around in corridors and tripping him up, but he found his eyes fixated on the young man’s face, as his head slowly, agonisingly, rolled so that it was facing in the direction of the Orion.

His skin had adopted an almost metallic undertone, grey lines tracing underneath his skin in the most grotesque bubbling pattern that Y’Lev had ever seen. The man’s mouth seemed to gasp and tremble, as though he were trying to form words, but could not force a sound to leave his lips. The trembling only increased as a twitch seemed to develop in the corner of the man’s eye, making his entire face distort a fraction as Y’Lev swallowed down the bile in his throat.

The eye of the man in front of him bulged, the brown toned iris distorting as several metal prongs burst through the membrane of his eye and clamped down on the surrounding skin of his face, grasping in to his paling flesh and dragging it tightly to further distort the young man’s face. Y’Lev wagered that with his strong jawline, handsome brows, well-managed hair, that this man would have been handsome before whatever had afflicted him had occurred.

“H-h… H…” Fleeting noises escaped from the man’s mouth, though they were undistinguishable as either gasps or attempts at speech, with the man’s remaining eye wandering to somewhere above Y’Lev, wavering as it brimmed with tears. Whatever had been done to him, he was been shaped into something abhorrent, his skin distorting like that pestilent woman he’d encountered outside the computer core. Despite Y’Lev’s penchant for bioweapons, his knowledge of chemicals and poisons, this level of transformation was something he wouldn’t have ever considered inflicting on someone.

Beauty was valuable. Y’Lev would never do anything to destroy it.

And then, yet again, he found himself in an intimate embrace with the bulkhead, something from behind him knocking him to the ground from sheer force of movement, causing his entire side to sting as he glanced up at the corridors new occupant. It was as if Y’Lev were beholding the red-chest from the floor, though several years later in development. The being looked to be a Klingon, judging from the distinctive cranial ridges visible to the Orion, though his skin was alabaster, almost grey-toned from the presence of veins of metal crawling under his skin. Fastened to his eye, face and neck, were mechanical components and whirring devices, wires and tubes protruding from the back of his skull and snaking down to the metalic body armour fastened to his form.

This being wasn’t Klingon. At least, not anymore.

He moved like an automaton, lifting his left arm high to face a wall-mounted console and launching two snaking tubules from a metallic implant in his wrist, thudding silently into the console and slowly reconfiguring the Starfleet standard display to an ominously green toned panel.

‘You will be assimilated’

Suddenly Y’Lev painted an unpleasant picture of these beings in his head. It seemed that they forcibly corrupted others using some form of injection through the tubules in their wrists. Evidently it was some form of technological process, given the way the being was able to interact with and corrupt the console in front of it, but either way, it was a perversion of everything Y’Lev valued.

Beauty, freedom, pleasure…

The writhing form on the floor didn’t appear to be experiencing any modicum of pleasure…

A green thumb slid his rings around his right finger, positioning his dancerdagger before flicking his wrist to activate the blade, both ends of his ring shooting out with nothing more than a light tapping noise. The thin weapon glinted in his green hand, the silver metal gleefully spinning between his deft fingers as he poised himself with a combat grip ready to plunge one of the deadly sharp points into the back of the metallic Klingon’s head.

He struck with a smile and an overarm stab.

Then he found himself thrown into a wall.

A force field…

Y’Lev rolled himself to his feet and moved as quick as he could manage, putting several metres between the Borg and himself as he prepared his next move. His dancerdaggers were incredibly versatile weapons; the technological components inside the blades could be calibrated to emit a disruption pulse sufficient enough to penetrate a personal force field… However, he’d need a microfilament to activate the charge, which he didn’t have… Unless he took one from his false combadge… Though that would greatly diminish his chances of successfully accomplishing his mission…

“We are Borg.” Y’Lev glanced up at the announcement, noting that the drone working on the panel in front of him was now staring directly at him. “Your technological and biological distinctiveness will be added to our own.” The Borg, the drone, turned its body to face Y’Lev now, raising a claw-ending arm that opened and clamped menacingly. “Resistance is futile.”

With a grim chuckle to himself, Y’Lev flicked out his remaining dagger and adopted a combat stance.

He didn’t have any intention of being ‘added’ to anything…

[ Ryuan Sel | Security Centre Lobby | Deck 07 | USS Theurgy ] attn: @trevorvw & others
[Show/Hide]
When the Borg made their usual call, Sel did not stop to listen. She was focused on her task. She was headed toward the transporter room first. If the Borg took them there, they could bring on reinforcements infinitely easier using the ships own systems against them. Sel had no interest in letting that happen. She knew the other teams would make it to other key areas and she knew that at least one of their very few Accipters would be with each team. With any luck, they would not fall into Borg hands and the Borg would not adapt very quickly to the many many settings of the weapon.

As she moved through the corridors she made a not of the concern and fear on the faces of people she hurried past. She kept her face a mask of determined anger. She knew she had to keep any fear she felt well hidden. She needed to be a face of strength, and as a Bajoran who had lived through being a slave to the Cardassians, she knew well enough to keep herself contained. It didn't matter that she was afraid. It didn't matter that she almost knew she was going to die and never see Sarresh again. None of it mattered. She had to move forward, she had to look strong and be strong.

Just outside the transporter room, she saw her first Borg. It's gray skin and protruding metal appliances made her stomach tighten. The Borg were like an undead creature from some old film, peering out of mechanical eyes and mottled skin.

She raised her weapon and took aim, squeezing the trigger and letting loose a beam of phased Tetryon particles that slammed into the Borg and quickly shot a hole clean through the drone. The beam was set to near its highest setting, Sel had figured it would be best to one hit kill as many Borg as possible, hoping that a dead Borg would not be able to send as much data on the weapon to the still living ones.

She ran past the dead Borg and into the Transporter room. 3 more Borg, one standing at the controls, another holding the former transporter chief by the shoulder. The chief had already been injected with nanoprobes and Sel could see, much to her horror and disgust, the black lines forming under his skin as they took control of him. 4 borg, that made 4 borg.

She held up her weapon and took aim, after the first shot did only a little to one Borg she set the Accipter to a rotating frequency and engaged a higher setting. The second shot disabled the first Borg and she quickly moved to take cover behind the console as a plasma beam shot past her and struck the wall.

She quickly adjusted her weapon again. Time to make use of other options.

When she stood up and aimed she squeezed the trigger and sent out a spray of tungsten carbide bullets, which promptly tore through both the former chief and the drone holding him. The final drone managed to get a shot and hit Sel in the shoulder as she turned to aim at it. The plasma beam cut through her armor and into her shoulder, but the armor did it's job, it kept the beam from cutting clean through her shoulder. It hurt like a son of a bitch, but her arm was still attached and not broken.

She took aim and fired at the last drone, the spray of bullets slamming into its personal shields for a second before overwhelming the shield and tearing into the drone. She knew well enough that trick was not going to work again. She was going to have to get more creative if she was going to hold out, and she had to hold out.

She tapped at the console and entered her command codes, powering down the whole of the central transporter system. Only emergency transporters would work now, at least until the system was powered back on, and that would take a minute or two. It wasn't much, but it would slow them down.

"Sel to Kai, I've shut down the central transporter system. I'll hold here, for now, let me know when you need me to pull back," she said into her badge after giving it a quick tap. There was no 'if she needed to pull back', at this point it looked like this might be as far as she went. But she wasn't going to go out without a fight. She owed that to Sarresh.

Lt Kaylon Jeen| Main Engineering | Deck 25 | USS Theurgy ]  Attn: @Doc M. @Auctor Lucan , anybody else in Engineering.

"Sounds good tuh me sir!" O'Connell smiled sheepishly, his voice loud enough to be heard across the entirety of main engineering
O'Connell continued talking to the crew in Engineering essentially giving Kaylon command authority down in Engineering.  Good.  He was going to need them to react quickly if they were going to avoid being assimilated!

"Over tuh yew, Lieutenant."  Kaylon nodded in acknowledgement.

At that moment, there was another hit, and the Petty Officer shouted "We've lost sixty one percent of shield two and shield three is down!  I repeat, shield three is down!"

Damn!  That was going to complicate matters, but maybe they could still pull this off.

"Dagnabbit," Billy Bob grunted.  "Lew-tenant, take over here.  There's uh li'l errand Ah gotta run" and he took off toward his office.  Whatever it was, Kaylon hoped it was more important than just "an errand" but he didn't have time to dwell on it.  He went into command mode.  "Alright.  Get a repair team on Shield Generator three!" he called out unnecessarily, then turned toward the Petty Officer that had reported the shield was down. "Route emergency power to shield two.  We need to get it up to at least 52 percent in order for this to have a prayer of working.  If you have to siphon off some power from number four to get it there, do it, but don't let number four drop below 52 percent either!  Preferably, pull the power from somewhere else though!"

Turning to the Master Systems Display table, he stabbed the intercom.  "Engineering to Bridge.  Shield three is down.  We're going to try something down here to try and compensate until we can get number three back up, but be prepared to repel boarders, just in case it doesn't work!  Engineering Out!"   As he wss talking, he was setting up the inverse frequency resonance.  He called out "Adjust the sheild geometry to stretch the shields to cover as much space between two and four as possible.  We're essentially stretching the dough a bit thin over the hole here!"

[ WE ARE THE BORG.  WE WILL ADD YOUR BIOLOGICAL AND TECHNOLOGICAL DISTINCTIVENESS TO OUR OWN.  YOUR CULTURE WILL ADAPT TO SERVICE US.  RESISTANCE IS FUTILE. ]


He watched on the display as the shield geometry changed and the tactical shield display showed the normally rounded bubble twist around look more like a pile of half-mashed Gagh.  Shield three started flickering.  Yes! It wasn't up yet, but he could tune the frequency to the inverse of those blips and that would help bridge the gap like opposite magnetic fields repeling the other, except the fields would be projecting outward, keeping things away instead of each other.

"Keep watching those levels, Ensign" he called out to Cir'Cie.   They need to stay as stable as possible.  If you can tweak them, do it."

"Here goes..." and he touched the control to start the frequency shift.  As the shield status indicator showed that it was working, at least for the moment, he thought "..and the first part of Futile is 'F U', Borgies!"

[ Lt Simon Tovarek | Main Sickbay | Deck 11 | USS Theurgy ]
  @Lex Dalton  @Arista @FollowTomorrow @lisavw

After helping the medical crew set up with the ORE, Tovarek helped around as much as he could. Even though he technically was a doctor he doubted he'd be of any use when it came to fleshy components. His eyes scanned the room they were in before he wondered what kind of prevention the Sickbay had in case they'd actually get boarded. His thoughts bounced around in his head as he helped with the vaccinations before something came to his mind. "Su-ka" he cursed under his breath as he looked at Parnak. The Borg audio crackled through the speakers and it was just crazy that the idea had struck into his mind just now.  "I'll be out for a moment. Need to install some pattern enhancers at the entry points of Sickbay. It could buy us time if the drones make it here." he informed the Cardassian before he rushed off out of the office of Zelosa Ejek.

He ran to a replicator to produce some of the enhancers and on his way to the main entrance of Sickbay he ran into nurse Jovela. She seemed to be checking the bio beds and offered some help when they had arrived the first time. He called out to her "Nurse Jovela, could you help me with setting up these pattern enhancers." he rushed towards towards the main entrance, hoping the nurse would follow in his wake as he began to set them up. Time was of the essence, yet Simon didn't think the Borg would made the trip down to Sick bay as there shouldn't be anything important here anyway.

It was a sour surprise when the green hue of light started to light up in the corridor a few meters away from him. The Russian swears and curses exponentially increasing as a Borg raiding party of four beamed into the corridor and got their bearings seemingly.

[Dr. T’Panu & Annika Van den Berg  Hallway Outside Main Sickbay | Deck 11 | Vector 02 | USSTheurgy ]

T’Panu had just taken a walk to clear her head. ”Why did I leave that meeting? T’Panu asked herself. Just get yourself together, people need a doctor, not someone who cowers in fear.

Just then, Annika came out of main sickbay. She looked confused. Scared? Focused? T’Panu was unsure. She asked her what was going on and if everything was okay. Annika said something about needing to stretch her legs. The look on her face said otherwise, and T’Panu noted she was deflecting her question. Or was she just overthinking it because of how she felt? She was unsure; she was unsure of a lot of things lately. All she knew was she needed to get it together. The crew needs a doctor, not some laden up useless Vulcan..

Annika thought about how useless she was feeling at the time. Everyone had a job to do aboard this ship, however it seemed like she was the only one who was physically healthy but at the same time, couldn’t do her duty. The ship suddenly shuddered from what felt like weapons fire impacting the shields.

This Vulcan sure talks a lot Annika thought to herself as it felt like she had a second shadow in the form of a Vulcan doctor. Annika glanced back at the doctor just as she began to speak. 

“Shall we head back to Sickbay?” T’Panu asked Annika. She nodded, and they began walking back. That was when they heard it.


[WE ARE THE BORG. WE WILL ADD YOUR BIOLOGICAL AND TECHNOLOGICAL DISTINCTIVENESS TO OUR OWN. YOUR CULTURE WILL ADAPT TO SERVICE US. RESISTANCE IS FUTILE.]


Annika felt the colour drain from her face as she heard the ominous message relayed throughout the ship. She immediately felt the ship shudder from another impact while there was a simultaneous explosion around 5 metres down the corridor. It seemed, at least to Annika, that the EPS grid had overloaded and caused the explosion. She immediately looked back to T’Panu.

”C’mon, let’s go check that out!” she said as she started jogging down the hallway. It took only a matter of seconds for them to traverse the short distance to where the explosion had happened. Annika looked down and saw Borg bodies on the floor.

Looks like the Borg did us a favour she thought to herself. Annika looked back to T’Panu and in an effort to keep her safe, told her to stay on the sickbay side of the explosion as Annika would venture slightly beyond the new hole in the bulkhead. T’Panu had nodded in acknowledgement when Annika made her way through the smoke and debris to see if any Starfleet Officers needed assistance on the other side of the new hole.

That’s when she heard the mechanical and methodical movements of a Borg drone, she couldn’t see where the sound was coming from. She then turned around and saw the back of a drone, which was headed right towards T’Panu. Annika didn’t have any weapons so she did the next best thing, or at least that’s what she thought. She jumped on the back of the drone with both arms locked around the throat of the drone as she tried to at least bring down the drone to spare T’Panu.

T’Panu, in shock, stared at the sight. She couldn’t believe what she saw. Annika, little Annika, wrapped around the Borg like it was taking her for a piggyback ride. T’Panu ran through the debris to where the Borg bodies were piled. She grabbed the first thing she could reach and ran towards Annika.

”Take this, you stupid mechanical drone!” T’Panu was holding it by its hand as she hit it, square in the face, with its comrades arm. The Borg stumbled a bit from the shock of getting hit.

Annika was then attempting to rip out the tubules in his head, trying to cut power to his systems. One by one, she managed to grab a few of his tubes and pull them right out.

The Borg caught its bearings, and lifted its right arm and pointed it straight at T’Panu as the assimilation tubules extended from its hand just as Annika kept pulling tubes hoping to shut it down. Just as the drone reached T’Panu, the Borg powered down and fell to the floor, causing Annika to go tumbling to the floor as well. Annika scrambled for the nearest and sharpest piece of debris. She found a piece of bulkhead that was approximately 20 centimetres long with a sharp, jagged point on one end. She quickly and repeatedly sunk the piece of debris into the drone’s neck hoping to eliminate the biological part of the drone. She stabbed the drone more than 20 times before she stopped, while panting and looked up at T’Panu who was staring down at Annika in a sense of disbelief.

”They can’t live without their biological components. Hopefully this took care of him before he adapted” she said while leaving the piece of debris lodged in the drone. As she stood up she could see that there were more Borg seemingly down the corridor on the other side of sickbay. She grabbed T’Panu’s hand and started running for the relative safety of sickbay. 

Hopefully no more Borg piggyback rides, Annika thought to herself as she was running for sickbay.

[ Lt. JG Jovela | Main Sickbay | Deck 11 | USS Theurgy ]
Attn: @Nolan @Auctor Lucan @lisavw

[Show/Hide]
"Yes Lt!" She said and hurried over to him her uniform boots sounding on the deckplates. As she closed on him and went to help set up the pattern enhancers she followed his gaze into the hallway and saw the green light bathing the hallway and the four borg.
"Oh my, oh no, please no" She whispered and stood there looking at them, she felt that impuse to freeze in fear but remebered somthing and snapped out of it.

"What do we do? I don't have a phaser." She took a step backwards into the Sickbay and thought about her training, she could fight if she needed to but how effective would hand to hand combat be against the Borg? She ran through the drills in her head, weak points on the humanoid body. Where to apply pressure and break bones, but these where cybernetic life forms.

She looked over at the man as the hallway was swept by the red laser pointers of the borg, there could be no worse fate than being a drone. To loose everything you are and be a small whisper in a sea of screaming voices, that is how she imagined it. The thought of it filled her with a cold dread, she would rather be shot again. Would it hurt to be assimilated? Did you even know it was happening? Questions started filling her mind and she blinked twice to clear her thoughts.

"We can't let them in here, we have to do somthing." She said and took a step back towards the door her hands balled into fists.

[ Lt. Kai Akoni | Security Centre | Deck 07 | USS Theurgy ] @Top Hat @Absinthe @Auctor Lucan  et al.

Kai had finished his briefing and asked if there were any questions. No one had offered any questions in the short time he had them there before Kingston had ordered everyone to move out. Kai thought about where would be the most vulnerable while also having the least amount of security personnel there.

Main Computer Core, Kai had thought to himself as he started to make his way to the computer core. He left behind the four security personnel guarding Nicander as he made his way into the corridor. He saw the security crewmen making their way to the same location. He jogged a little bit and caught up to them. There were two of them along with Kai. As he caught up with them, he had heard them talking to each other, but stopped talking as soon as they had noticed him.

[Akoni, Ducote. We have engaged the Borg. Prepare to receive guests-merda na minha..prepare quickly. Out} came the call from Commander Ducote. Kai nodded at the crewmen in front of him.

He waved his free hand and said ”Don’t stop talking on my account”. Kai had finished talking as the two crew members had started talking to each other again expressing their fear and apprehension of a successful outcome. Akoni was pleased that they were still dedicated to their duty. He noted that they were young, and that they had reminded him of himself at that age. Just as he finished that thought, his combadge came to life.

[Sel to Kai, I’ve shut down the central transporter system. I’ll hold here, for now, let me know when you need me to pull back]. Excellent thinking Kai thought to himself before tapping his combadge to reply.

”Acknowledged. I’ll let you know shortly once I get to the computer core” he finished saying as the ship kept shuddering both beneath his feet and all around him.

As the trio neared the turbolift, the corridor before them erupted in a brilliantly blinding light which was followed by the rush of air coming from behind Kai as his cloudy vision due to the bright light noticed there was no bulkhead in front of him anymore. All this while simultaneously grabbing on to a conveniently open jeffries tube hatch right next to him. He watched helplessly as the two crew members he was just talking with being vented out into the Azure Nebula. It took less than three seconds for the forcefields to kick in, causing Kai to slump down to the deck plating. His chest heaved as he attempted to catch his breath after that.

Akoni felt a twinge of sadness for the two crew members, but at the same time pushed the thought out of his head as he quickly realized that he need to get to the computer core.

He tapped his combadge, ”Akoni to Kingston, do we have anyone at the computer core? I just lost two crew members on the way there”

[ Commander Carrigan Trent | Stellar Cartography | Deck 16 | USS Theurgy ] @patches

Trent having advised the Bridge of the status of Soup Sandwich and of his intention, he was left to wonder about the best way to get up to Deck 01.  He was half of the ship away, with an unknown number of Borg boarders along the way, and who-knew how many assimilated crewmembers to back them up.  And, for that matter, he was not in Security's loop either, so he could not know where they had set up barriers to slow them down along the way. 

And without a tricorder on hand, he would be wandering blind until he could find one.  Where was the nearest equipment locker he could rummage through?  And he needed a route, a fast one.  By then, odds are the shipboard transporters would be either compromised or locked down, a more than sensible precaution against the Borg. 

Or, there was another option...

That was when one form, then more, landed on the Stellar Cartography lab's lower deck and he instinctively raised his phaser... only to sharply bend his elbow to point it at the lights, two decks up, very clearly holding the regular hand-phaser with one finer about the grip to secure it to the ball of his thumb, and all other fingers, especially his thumb, pointing well away.  They were wearing exo-suits, and moving in relays of movement and cover.  Definitely no Borg, and the last thing he would need is someone with an itchy trigger finger to get over-excited. 

With no weapons pointed at him, he lowered his own, even as their leader, a woman, spoke to him.  So, that was their team leader.  "That is correct."

And, she did provide more information for him.  Turbolifts were down.  That definitely meant the most direct route up was down, which meant his brainstorm had just become the only viable way to get up there quickly.  "I don't know where you're headed, but I need to get to the hangar deck.  Are you in a position to divert, or are you headed to a hot-spot?  If you are, can your team spare a tricorder, I'll make my own way."

[ Lt. JG Adam Kingston (https://orig00.deviantart.net/1cf3/f/2018/249/c/8/adam_kningston_by_auctor_lucan-dcm5pot.png) | Corridor | Deck 04 | USS Theurgy ]
^{Attn: @trevorvw}
[Show/Hide]With his browridge lowered over his eyes, Adam Kingston raised his Accipiter rife towards the advancing Borg in the corridor. Squeezing the trigger, he fired it for the first time. The dry-firing concussion blast sent the four drones tumbling backwards - even tearing up the carpet. He couldn't quite help the lopsided smile that touched his stubbled cheek. If I can get this kind of armament from the future, I say fuck the temporal directive.

"Have at them girls!" he called in his hoarse voice, and the two female officers in Security exosuits that had taken cover in the corridor's intersection stepped out with their phaser rifles, dealing rapid fire bolts into the fallen tin-men. That was when the call from Akoni came.

[Akoni to Kingston, do we have anyone at the computer core? I just lost two crew members on the way there.]

Whatever mirth Adam had felt bled out of him before he tapped the side of his helmet and replied. "Kingston here, I'm sending two of my team up to the bridge and I'll rendezvous with you at the computer core. Turbolifts are down, had to climb out of it, but I'm on the right deck. Kingston out," he said, and once the four drones were dealt with, he gave the order. "You heard me, climb the Jefferies tubes to the Main Bridge. I will head up there once the A.I. core is secured. Go!"

Without further delay, Adam turned on his heel and ran down the opposite direction. It took him less than thirty seconds to get a visual on the core's entrance, and there were security guards on the floor, twitching. Assimilated. "Fuck," he said, and and halted his step. He did not want to step closer and see who they were. He didn't want their faces in his nightmares. So from a distance, he drew his hand phaser and vaporized the bodies, one by one. He holstered his sidearm before he entered the Theurgy's Main Computer Core.

Six drones in total, a couple already having accessed consoles. Kingston bared his teeth and toggled the firing mode of the Accipiter to the tungsten option, and started to mow them down with precision bursts.

[ Ens. Cir'Cie (https://uss-theurgy.com/w/index.php?title=Cir%27Cie) | Main Engineering | Deck 25 | USS Theurgy ]
^{Attn: @alphawiz @Doc M.}
[Show/Hide]The altercation with the conceited Human had come to an abrupt end when the third shield grid failed. Kaylon Jeen may not have stepped in on her behalf before then, but he did not hesitate to put Cir'Cie to work - showing far better judgement.

"Yes, Lieutenant," she said dispassionately and walked over to the MSD table, efficiently keying up the shield harmonic frequencies and the power stabilization controls. The frequencies were off to begin with. "Variation at 5 %" No more had she spoken than Jeen contacted the bridge about the third shield grid and told them what they were doing about the breach in the Theurgy's shields. She was asked to keep the power levels stable, and that she did, the task far from beyond her.

"Compensating now. Variation at 4%. 3%. 2,5%." she said as if she was listing species of flora. She got no further before the first Borg drones appeared, not far from the table. She raised her green eyes and looked in their direction, and then she looked back at Jeen. Behind the Trill's shoulder, she saw O'Connell striking some kind of pose outside his office, making her raise her eyebrow in his direction. "Chief O'Connell has acquired weapons. I would suggest we do the same."

She did not wish to leave her task, the import of keeping the power levels for the shield harmonics not lost on her. Still, the Borg drones were only a few yards away, two of them approaching her table. Any fear she had was dampened, neither found in her tone or her eyes when she turned her stare towards the Chief. "Instead of posturing, would you be so kind and open fire instead?"

Either way, whatever Lieutenant Jeen was doing, it seemed to be working.

[ Drauc T'Laus (https://uss-theurgy.com/w/index.php?title=Drauc_T%27Laus) | Cargo Bay 04 | Deck 08 | USS Theurgy ]
[Show/Hide]By that time, Drauc T'Laus had taken out two drones that had attempted to access control panels in the corridors of Deck 08. He had lost track of the two security officers in his company quite soon, their pace slower than his, or they were unwilling to share his company. Drauc did not care. He was used to tread the battlefield alone.

He heard banging sounds ahead, and stepped towards it, the stock of his Type III rifle against his shoulder. He flexed his scarred hands around his grip, while his eyes sought the source. He saw two new security guards ahead of him, but they didn't see him. Instead of watching the corridor, they were looking through the transparent aluminum panel of the door they guarded. They were talking, more like shouting to each other, but Drauc did not need to listen to the audio of their voice. Their distress was like blaring klaxon inside his skull, and he knew the reason before he reached the door.

Inside the cargo bay were survivors of the Belleophon, and they were in a state of mass psychosis. They were not alone. Six drones were in there with them, and they couldn't escape, because the two security guards had not dared open the door to let them out - either afraid for their own lives or unable to jettison the threat out of the bay doors. Perhaps both. Their almost animal distress made it difficult to discern conscious thoughts. Even when they saw him approaching, they just shouted at him, almost raising their arms against him just to avoid making the decision about the incarcerated officers from the Bellerophon.

"Stand aside," he rasped, more loudly than he usually spoke, merely to override them. Something made them comply. Perhaps it was a vestigial element of authority in his words, lingering since his time in as an officer in their fleet. He didn't know, nor did he care. His eyes, hidden by the overhead light of the corridor and his hair, were solely upon the development beyond the door. With each step, the panic bled into him from those inside, assimilated or not. They were reduced to animal terror, and Drauc felt himself become saturated with it.

The security guards had hesitated for far too long. It was too late. Only three Bellerophon officers remained, right at the door. Bleeding knuckles had smeared the panel, but Drauc saw two of the drones advancing towards their backs. Their screaming faces were right in front of Drauc. The visual representation of the horror, supplementing that which Drauc felt through the door. Different screams, both silent - only their trashing limbs and attempts to breach the door heard.

Drauc reached for the control panel. Something which the two guards should have done to begin with. Now, there was no choice. The drones too close. Moreover, he had to silence their abject terror, as much for their sake as his own. His scarred fingers protracted from his frayed sleeve, and he pulled down the manual emergency override.

When the bay doors opened, the entire compartment was vacated in seconds, and there was quietude in Drauc's mind again.

He turned his dark eyes towards the two guards. He said nothing of his disdain towards them. He just stepped away, leaving them there.

The battle wasn't over yet.

[ Sera vers Aldnoah (https://uss-theurgy.com/w/index.php?title=Sera_vers_Aldnoah) | Upper Shuttle Bay | Deck 11 | Vector 01 | USS Theurgy ] 
[Show/Hide]After Zyrao had left her, about thirty minutes ago, the interior of the Sabine had been a mess. Natana and she ad taken the opportunity to celebrate being alive, the party involving replicated food and drinks along with other spoils Zy had collected. It had been sweet as long as it lasted, before Zy had been asked by Dewitt to help in the battle. It left Sera alone, perhaps, but far from defenseless.

Having done her hair up in a loose bun, she had already donned her red Câroon exosuit. She lowered the helmet over her head, heard the seals hiss, and then reached for the hidden compartment in one of her small cargo holds. Sera didn't know what Zy had done to reclaim it when she got their supplies for their escape from the ship, but there it was, the Klingon disruptor that Security had confiscated after her short decoy mission. Perhaps she had stolen it before it reached the Sec Center? Either way, Sera picked it up, checked the power level, and stepped out of the Sabine's airlock.

Outside, chaos reigned. As far as she could tell, there were people from the Bellerophon in the shuttle bay, apparently let out of wherever they had been holed up. Twenty people, every man and woman for themselves, trying to get access to the available shuttles. And behind them, Borg drones, methodically assimilating or gunning them down. Some of the metal and flesh figures were busy accessing control panels. Sera, she had her disruptor raised, pointing it in the faces of two Starfleeters that tried to get aboard the Sabine.

"Burn you, this ship is mine. Stay away." The yellow-eyed glare she gave them kept them from advancing, but they began to plead to her. Beg for their lives. Imploring her to let them step on the Sabine. "I said stay away!"

She fired once into the deck, to show them she meant it, and they scrambled away towards some of the other shuttles, hoping it wasn't sealed like the rest, and attempting escape even though the Upper Shuttle Bay's massive doors were closed behind Sera's back. There was nowhere to fly, and even if the doors had been opened, the cube was surely out there. Sera saw more drones materializing. Closer to her.

"Blast off," she growled through the mic in her helmet and opened fire.

Only her Klingon weapon had no effect - the disruptor beam nullified against their personal force fields.

"Blood and bloody ashes," she murmured, backing away from their advance. Was this how she was going to die?

She fired again, in vain, since what else could she do?

Only this time... it worked! The drone staggered, a hole in it's chest, and a grin bloomed behind her visor. Whatever happened, she was going to make the most of it. She fired against the drones with every step towards the airlock of the Sabine, leaving them writhing on the deck. Once she was inside, she sat down in the cockpit and fired up her engines. Anti grav units underneath the damaged Sabine raised her from the deck, and with a measured motion, she turned the Sabine around so that she faced the crowded bay.

"Think you can haul my ashes?," she said, and used her tactical sensor suite to pinpoint the drones in the bay. Next, her pulse phaser turrets lowered from under her nose cone, and she opened fire. "Think again!"

[ Doctor Lucan cin Nicander (https://uss-theurgy.com/w/index.php?title=Dr._Lucan_cin_Nicander) | Security Center | Deck 07 | USS Theurgy ]
[Show/Hide]Closing his mismatched hands into fists, Lucan stepped back from the forcefield. Beyond it, he could see the four security guards being assimilated, one at the time. One of them laid in plain view, and Lucan could almost see his own fate in the woman's eyes.

The drone that had assimilated her paused above her twitching form, and it turned its red eye towards Lucan, who clenched his jaw. "Stay there... I am not important. Just another prisoner." But the drone didn't leave, even if the other three moved deeper into the security center. What did it see? What possible interest could...

There came a quiet laugh from the abyss inside.

Of course, thought Lucan, the truth of it plain to him. The Borg had never assimilated the Câroon species, and that drone had scanned him - determined that he held worth for the Collective. By the winds, why can't anything be easy for once?

He had no choice. He could not let the nameless darkness become a part of the Collective. He couldn't let this Cycle be ruined as well. The drone had already accessed the control panel, and he had no means to call for aid. He had no choice but to escape. Something he had been able to do all the time, but it had not been constructive for the mission, to have those who didn't trust him kill him simply because he couldn't be contained. "Darkness, descend!"

His voice command powered down the entire front of the Security Center, including the transporter inhibitors. It was the same means in which he had sealed his office, and covered up the murder of Garen Nelis, among countless other things. The subsystem of the Theurgy that only he had access to, installed when the ship was commissioned. Lucan could still see the outline of the drone in the emergency lighting, and its red eye following his movements. He gave it a small smile, before he accessed the transporter systems with his next command.

And vanished.

---

OOC: Thanks to Trent, the adaptive shield matrix of the Borg is momentarily down, so make the most of it! Please make the weapons of your characters turn ineffective against the drones, only to suddenly work again.

Here comes battle objectives for you all to use in your writing, and you have 7 days to post! Please check off one objective each, and you have full liberty in setting up details,NPCing the people mentioned, and arranging where the drones appear and what they do. Change or adapt these objectives as you wish too, thinking of it as a writing exercise, as long as the overall intent is still to repel the Borg. Have a look! [Show/Hide]
Please bear in mind that while this thread is available for all, you may all start up Supplemental threads too, if that would be your preference. The naming convention of such Supplemental threads would be CH05: S [D06|1110] Insert Title. Looking forward to read the development! 

[ Maya (https://uss-theurgy.com/w/index.php?title=Dr._Maya) | Recovery Ward | Main Sickbay | Deck 11 | Vector 02 | USS Theurgy ] ^{Attn: @Auctor Lucan @Nolan @TWilkins @Lex Dalton @lisavw @FollowTomorrow @Absinthe}

Recovering from injuries was never a picnic.  Recovering from injuries aboard a rogue starship like the USS Theurgy was even more unsettling.  Recovering from injury aboard a starship in the middle of a battle was nerve-wracking.  For the patients in the Theurgy’s recovery ward in Main Sickbay, could it get any worse?

[ WE ARE THE BORG.  WE WILL ADD YOUR BIOLOGICAL AND TECHNOLOGICAL DISTINCTIVENESS TO OUR OWN.  YOUR CULTURE WILL ADAPT TO SERVICE US.  RESISTANCE IS FUTILE. ]

Yes.  Yes it could.

“Did you hear that?” a patient whispered.

“We’re fighting the Borg!” another one gasped.

“By the Powers, we’re all going to die!” a third exclaimed.

The door opened and Doctor Maya of Vulcan marched in with a stiff gait that was completely at odds with her the ethereal glide the normally described her movements.  Her normal blank catlike stare that usually conveyed mild curiosity was gone and had been replaced by tight lips and narrow eyes that seemed to convey irritation.

“What’s going on?” a patient whimpered.

“Have we been boarded?” another one demanded.

“I don’t want to be assimilated!” a third cried out.

The coffee colored Nurse Leticia Jones entered the room in time to hear the cadaverously pale Maya speak in a cold clinical voice. 

“Nurse, prepare sedatives for each of our patients resting here in the recovery ward.  When we get casualties we won’t have time to cater to their emotional stress.  Check with their patient charts to ensure that each of them gets the minimum dosage in order to ensure that they will not injure themselves in the meantime.”

Jones gulped.  Maya was speaking as if the patients were not there.  But Jones had worked with Maya enough to know that in times of stress the Vulcan became increasingly frigid and mechanical until she behaved more like an android than a living being. 

“Yes Doctor,” Nurse Jones reluctantly replied, “but what about the patients considered too delicate to sedate?”

In response Maya reached out and grasped the nearest patient in the trapezius nerve bundle between the neck and the shoulder.  The patient stiffened and fell unconscious.  “We will manage,” she retorted.  “When you are finished in here prepare for surgery.  I will be changing into my surgical scrubs.”

“Doctor, what about the Borg?” a patient whined.

“There is no need to concern yourself about the Borg,” Maya replied in total ignorance of the Borg drones out in the corridor just outside sickbay.  “Even if they board us there is no indication that they would be interested in the damaged specimens here.”

---

OOC:  I assume the drones are in the corridor just outside sickbay.  To be honest, I'm a little fuzzy on just where the Borg menacing Simon and Jovela are.

OOC Notice: Since the question has come up, I feel I have to clarify time passing here in Storm Glass as opposed to Chapter 05: BotA. They are not concurrent, because in BotA, not only is Soup Sandwich in effect (Borg shield matrix down). In BotA, the Queen has adapted to Soup Sandwhich, destroyed many Klingon ships, fired upon the Theurgy and then, the Versant arrived. Storm Glass is only when Soup Sandwich is in effect, the rest coming in later. After I post next here in Storm Glass, the rest of the development will be covered, with new Objectives etc. :)

[ Petty Officer Eliska Bremmer | Security Centre Lobby | Deck 22 | USS Theurgy ]

Something Eliska Bremmer had come to learn during the Dominion War, the push after one's attack had been initially repulsed by a counterattack was always more savage than the initial assault.  There was always this element of trying to redeem a past failure to take an objective, and this was no different. 

The Borg had rocked her team onto its heels, and she had barely been able to keep their retreat under contact from turning into an outright rout, especially when she was also busy shepherding people who'd been fleeing the boarders without any kind of plan or organization. That was something that had been a strain on her ability to keep control on her small slice of the battlefield, with personnel desperately trying to flee, and her own people desperate to hold the line now that their initial attack had failed. 

But discovering their weapons were of use again, that the Borg were vulnerable?  The retreat stopped, and overwhelming fire ended the Borg's counteroffensive.  And Bremmer led her team forward again.  As it turned out, the node the Borg had tried to set up was in a small lab space adjoining the Arboretum and they'd barely gotten started.  At least, not so much that there hadn't been much to do to cut off the room from the ship's computer networks.  Well, nothing a few well-placed phaser blasts couldn't solve.  The engineers could fix it later.  And it was with a sigh of relief that Bremmer made the call.  "Security Ops, Bremmer.  Deck 22 is secure, no further sign of Borg here.  Ready for fur..."

That was when the ship lurched more violently than she had before from enemy fire. The lights across the deck flickered, and many did not come back up.  And those that did come up did not last long, and the entirety of Deck 22 was pitched into darkness that was only relieved by red emergency lighting.  And it would seem ventilation also took a hit, for acrid smoke started to fill the corridors, and alarms started to sound.  There was the one advising there were indeed out of control fires across the deck, and that the smoke was indeed quite toxic.  Instinctively, she brought up her own sensor suite to get an idea of how her battlespace had shifted, and she saw a number of obstructions, some fires... and personnel trapped between piles of debris and the inferno of out of control plasma fires. 

"Security Ops, Bremmer.  Going into damage control mode here.  I have plasma fires and trapped personnel on Deck 22.  Request damage control parties and... oh hell... I've got an alarm saying some of the deuterium feed lines are really close to those fires.  We're heading to start digging our ways to isolate them before they blow, and try to get our people out." 

[PO3 Kino Taer | Deck 16 | Stellar Cartography > Hallway outside Flight Assault Bay ] @CanadianVet

“You’re heading to the flight deck? You’re in luck, Commander, as that’s where we are headed. If you’ll stay behind us, we’ll get you there.”

“By all means, lead the way.”

Kino nodded and gestured to a tall Bolian near the rear, indicating that Trent stick with him. She wasn’t sure how well-trained this officer was in shipboard combat and she hoped they wouldn’t have to test it. It was part of everyone’s standard training with regular refreshers, of course, but experience taught her that there was often enough a vast gulf between standardized training and the real thing. Besides that, their enemy was the Borg Collective. Trent didn’t have armor that could potentially foil attempts to assimilate or kill him – her team did.

The Stellar Cartography lab was one of the more spacious labs on the ship, a side effect from the impressively large and detailed star map projective that often illuminated the room. The Federation spared little expense in building its newest warship as it incorporated state-of-the-art equipment, some even still considered experimental, into both its military and science facilities. Unfortunately for the Security team on the go, that meant that properly clearing this particular lab took time that Taer and her team did not have. So she compromised. She trusted her exosuit’s sensors, verified the results with the rest, and marked it clear as they jogged to the door.
The five of them, Trent included, took up positions around the door as the ship’s power grid was apparently temporarily overloaded by something. The lights dimmed, quite a few just outright turning off, and Kino could swear that there was a subtle shift in the ship’s operation. There was no hesitation as she triggered the door’s manual override and they all piled out into the hallway. The blackout didn’t last long enough to get them all out during it, but as the lights came back on, the Trill realized there wasn’t going to be a need for them to be immediately on guard.

“Taer, dead bodies on the left.”

“Here on the left too. We’ve got both Borg and our own laying out here.”

“Hey, look at this one.”

Kino looked over at the slightly built human that was calling her over and walked over. At their feet lay this particular Security team’s leader. She knew some decks were overrun during the first boarding attempts, but something seemed off about this body.

“Aren’t those phaser wounds, Hubert?”

“I’d say so. Kino, a third of this deck are quarters are, most of them just down the hall. I was part of the team that locked down quite a few Devoted down here.”

“Devoted?”

“Fanatics. Think this one guy in the Science department, Morali or something, is going to save us all using some secret knowledge from the future.”

“Huh. You think they got out?”

“Maybe. I don’t see any of our phasers on the ground here. You hearing that?”

“Weapons fire. That’s in the direction of the fighter bay. Let’s get moving.”

With rifles raised, Taer led her team down the hall cautiously. The weapons she was hearing and that her suit was registering increased in tempo as they got closer, ceasing only when she and the other team member leading the group got a visual on the battle. It was a surprisingly diverse group that met the incoming Security team with raised weapons, surrounded by the bodies of Borg drones and Starfleet crew. Evidently, a pitched battle had just concluded there with both Borg and this lot attempting access to the fighter bay and nearby access points for both turbo lifts and major Jeffries tube arteries. Few of them wore communicators, but Taer’s suit managed to identify a few anyway. If she had checked her PADD, it would have displayed their records, all of which were tagged as “DEVOTED. CONFINED TO QUARTERS PENDING INVESTIGATION.”

“Taer…”

“If you’re about to tell me these are the Devoted you were talking about, I kinda guessed. Alright, you lot. All of you put down your weapons and return to your quarters.”

One of the taller petty officers stepped forward, his body showing clear signs of favoring heavy weights at the gym.

“No. Morali is alive and on that alien ship! We should be saving him and our friends there, not sacrificing ourselves in a pointless attack on the Borg!” He lowered his stolen phaser and gestured in the direction of the fighter bay. “We’re going to fix this. You should join us. You’ve missed so much, Taer.”

“Aw, let’s just kill them and move on, Jim.”

“No! Not yet! She was asleep. She doesn’t know her choices yet.”

“What choice, McPherson? We’re in the middle of a battle, for fuck’s sake! Can’t this wait?”

“Wenn Cinn didn’t wait before committing us to our deaths. Neither will we wait while he condemns those on the Versant to theirs. Are you with us or against us, Taer?”

Kino sighed in frustration. Standard operating procedures were clear on what to do during an insurrection on a Starfleet ship, but her team was ill equipped to enforce it and still be ready to tackle another Borg boarding attempt at the same time. She switched her rifle to stun, her team following suit once they noticed. She directed her team and Trent to find some cover.

“Commander, you have any ideas on this that don’t involve me wasting my ammunition on mutineers?”

Lt Kaylon Jeen|Main Engineering | Deck 25 | USS Theurgy |Attn : @Doc M. @Auctor Lucan

"Compensating now. Variation at 4%. 3%. 2.5%."   Cir'Cie counted down as the variance dropped.  Excellent!  This was going to work.  Just a little more, he thought and the shields he was manipulating would merge together...and hopefully hold.  The variance dropped to 1.3% and the geometry of the shields from the two emitters merged.  The Theurgy was once again fully covered.  For the moment at least.

He continued tweaking the shield geometry when he heard Cir'Cie say "Chief O'Connell has acquired weapons. I would suggest we do the same."    It was then that he noticed the drones.  Damn! They must have gotten in thru the hole in the shields before he could get them closed.  Kaylon quickly turned to the left and hurried to the weapons locker in the nearby engineering lab, grabbed two phasers and rushing back over to the table, tossed one to Ens. Cir'Cie as he took cover behind the MSD.  He tuned the phaser to an alternating frequency and took careful aim...

[ William Robert O’Connell (http://fc01.deviantart.net/fs71/f/2014/219/f/7/oconnel_row_01_by_auctor_lucan-d7u6n2x.png) | Main Engineering | Deck 25 | USS Theurgy ]  ^{Attn: @Auctor Lucan  @Absinthe @fiendfall @alphawiz]}

In the meantime, on the other side of Main Engineering, away from drama taking place at the master systems display table (http://memory-alpha.wikia.com/wiki/Master_systems_display_table), the warp core thrummed along without a care in the world until the deck shook and gravity seemed to tilt almost twenty degrees before leveling out again.

“Jesus Joseph an’ Mary!” O’Connell cried out as he tumbled ass over teakettle across the deck stopping himself at the power transfer conduits that blocked his progress towards the warp core.  “Damage report!” he thundered as he picked himself up and nearly tripped on his phaser rifle that had carelessly been discarded on the deck.

“Master Chief!” Petty Officer Zil Arex of Bolius IX cried out. 

An eerie green light coalesced into a sinister dark figure who appeared out of nowhere.  A sickly blueish white face half covered by a gunmetal black shell peered unblinkingly out at the room with one eye.  Its other eye socket shot a crimson beam before it that narrowed and dilated to create a glowing grid on whatever surface it hit.  A motley collection of dull black metal cover its body, tubes and hoses giving it an asymmetrical, cobbled together appearance.  The creature was right-handed, an inference suggested by the fact that its left was replaced by some kind of apparatus that ended in a short silvery tube or nozzle of some sort.  This was no holographic simulation.  This was a Borg drone.

“Stand back!” Master Chief O’Connell barked in his ‘chief’ voice as engineers and technicians abandoned their posts to put as much distance between them and the intruder as possible.  “Everybody stand back!  Don’t know whut its fixin’ tuh dew but yew kin bet it’s nothin’ friendly!  Contact security!  But in th’ meantime…”  He drew the pistol shaped Klingon disrupter and fiddled with its settings.  “It’s calm now but Ah don’t know whut it’ll dew when Ah dew this!”  With those words, he fired a green beam of energy at the intruder and it did…

…nothing.  A shimmering translucent barrier appeared magically before it and seemed to move in order to effectively block Billy Bob’s beam.  The creature didn’t even bother to acknowledge being shot at.  It didn’t even glance O’Connell’s way.  Instead it pivoted and examined its surroundings as if it had all the time in the world.

“Horsefeathers!  Ah reckon th’ Klingons have done shot at plenty uh these fellers,” O’Connell grunted as he holstered his useless weapon.  Apparently the Borg Collective had adapted its force fields to Klingon disrupters long ago.  For all Billy Bob knew, entire ships in Martok’s fleet could be assimilated by now.

The drone seemed to have found something it was interested in.  It started walking in the direction of the ODN relay junctions and the power regulators.  Not the consoles that controlled them, it was heading to the physical hardware.

“Hey!  Ah said hey!” O’Connell shouted as he retrieved his phaser rifle from the deck and took aim through the sight.  “Git away from those power regulators!” 

Firing at a random setting, Billy Bob was gratified to see a white beam of light strike the Borg drone and send it tumbling to the deck.  A protest of electronic gibberish was briefly heard as it flailed and twitched before finally becoming both still and silent.

O’Connell let out a sigh of relief.  “Okay, then.  Job well done,” he muttered before gawking as a second Borg drone appeared about a meter away from the first one.  It knelt and retrieved some components off the first one before rising and turning its back on the master chief to face the power regulators.  The drone that O’Connell had shot then disintegrated with a sickly green glow and was no more.

Billy Bob fired his phaser rifle at the second one but a floating rectangle of a force field appeared to block his beam.  He changed the settings on his rifle and shot again.  Paydirt.  The second drone fell like the sack of manure it was.  Then two more appeared.  One focused its attention on the power regulators and the second one lumbered straight toward Billy Bob. 

The master chief hit a stud on his SAFTI gear as he backed up.  He changed the setting on his rifle and fired again.  Nothing.  He jogged back to give himself some distance. “Dagnabbit, this critter is harder tuh git rid of than Rigellian herpes!”  He could have sworn that the phaser rifle was good for at least two more shots before the Borg would be able to adapt their shields to compensate.  Then realized that there must be other Borg drones aboard the Theurgy.  Someone else used up his shots.  Terrific.

Dropping the phaser rifle, he pulled out his pistol shaped pulse phaser.  The chance of nobody using one of these against a Borg drone was zero, but he had to try it anyway.  Sure enough it had no effect.  From behind the floating rectangle of a force field that appeared with each shot, the drone kept coming and coming. 

The drone came forward and threw a punch.  Billy Bob ducked, but from out of its wrist two barbs attached to black cords snaked out and went for his jugular and…

…hit the portable force field surrounding the master chief provided by his SAFTI gear.  O’Connell dodged to the right by rolling on the deck and coming up on one knee. 

“Ha!  It’s not so funny when Ah do it, now is it?” he crowed as he used his left hand to deactivate his SAFTI gear and used his right to draw his genuine imitation .45 single action Colt Peacemaker from his rear holster and fire a round into the drone’s eyepiece.  It staggered around and didn’t want to fall down so O’Connell rose to his feet cocked the hammer back and shot a second round into its skull.  It let out an electronic gurlgle and trembled like a Chihuahua with Parkinson’s but it still didn’t seem to know if it wanted to die or not so Billy Bob fired a third round to help it make up its mind.

That left the unattended one at the power regulators.  With mechanical precision, Billy Bob thumbed the hammer back on his revolver and emptied the last three bullets he had in the cylinder.

Lt Kaylon Jeen | Main Engineering | Deck 25 | USS Theurgy | Attn @Doc M. @Auctor Lucan

[continuing from previous post - He tuned the phaser to an alternating frequency and took careful aim...]

... at the drone that was standing over by the power regulators.  As he fired, the drone jerked a couple of times as O'Connell fired what looked like an antique kinetic projectile weapon.  Whatever it was, it seemed to have an effect.  Apparently the Borg weren't expecting to be assaulted with weapons from so long ago.  That gave Kaylon an idea.  he did a quick recalibration on the phaser.  The frequency still rotated, but the focus of the beam was also changed.  This would be something else that the Borg would have to adapt to.

As the drone turned toward the new (or very old) threat,  its attention diverted from the regulators, and away from him, Kaylon fired his phaser on tight beam.  The beam struck the drone in the side of the head and the drone's skull was sliced in two.  It toppled forward, Kaylon could see the tip its cortical node flashing erratically as it tried to send commands to parts of the drone's brain that were now laying beside it.  The drone's leg kicked in a final spasm then stilled.

The results had been gruesome, but effective.  For the moment, Engineering looked clear.  The shields were stable.   "Somebody do me a favor and grab a mop!" he said, shuddering.  Yeech!

[ Lieutenant Junior Grade Zark (https://uss-theurgy.com/w/index.php?title=XamotZark_zh%E2%80%99Ptrell) | Security Center | Deck 07 | Vector: Combined | USS Theurgy ]
[Show/Hide]

Zark had been present at the security briefing. Listening from some were off to the side. She had been helping out in sickbay until they were nearly on station then reported to the Security center. Upon filling in those present on whom she was, where she was from and what she could do, she’d been rolled into the active security group.

As the information and orders were passed out she’d adjusted the fittings on the shiny new EXO Suit. She had not taken it into battle and the fittings were still being adjusted as others spoke. The fancy rifles were handed out to some other security members, but she was not one of them. That didn’t surprise her.

Her suit had the standard gear that the others had. The Type II Pulse pistol was holstered on her left thigh. She had double checked the pouches. Her suit had more than the standard. As she carried not only combat gear, and a full issue of it, but medical gear as well. A back pack rested between her shoulders with additional medical supplies. Yes, medic’s had to carry more gear and it was a bitch, but that’s why they got all the best mates.

As orders were given she picked up the unique helmet for her ExoSuit and slid it on. Her Antennae sliding into the advanced triple layered sleeves protruding from the top. Glancing up she gave an experimental wiggle of her antennae, to ensure a good fit. This wasn’t the best option in all the worlds but it was better than not having a helmet or having one and having antennae sheered off. With the helm on the suit's internal workings adjusted the temp to much lower than ambient room temp for Federation starships. Zark was Andorian and she liked it cold.

Her helm and suit also projected an encrypted IFF (Identifying Friend or Foe) Designation as Medic. This couldn’t be seen by foes and only by friendlies, but would tell other security officers and crew who to call out for, for medical assistance.

When the squads started heading out she’d lifted her Type III rifle, checked the magazine and nodded. Time to hit the ice.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

That had been some time ago. Things had not expressly gotten better aboard Theurgy. Hits had been taken and the shield grid had given up enough of a hole for beam through from the Cube.

The Borg, where among them.

Zark had been given three crewmen under her as a roving squad to assist as needed and provide medical aid when possible. They had been moving fast, clearing corridors and patrolling. Clearing a corner in a ‘pie’ maneuver she swept the corridor into view and crouched down to a knee. There were Borg there and they looked to be entering the security center. Her antennae flattened back against her helmet, and she spoke lowly to the crewmen with her.

“Borg are taking the security center. We’re coming up behind. On my mark, let um have it. We need to overwhelm them before they adapt.”

The security crewmen nodded to her, looking scared. In truth she was scared too. This was nothing like patrolling the Cardassian border. Sure she’d seen action there but this was all together different.

Pulling her Type III up she gave hand signals and two of the crewmen crossed the hall. Then she and the other moved forward. Leap frogging two by two till they were out side the security center. Then a count down.

Three.

Two.

One.

She gave the signal and was first through the door. Just as the lights went off in the security center and darkness descended. Behind the security force-field, there was a shimmer. THAT… was not supposed to happen. Borg inside, their red electronic optics sweeping. Zark’s Antennae flicked and she brought up her rifle. The HUD of the suit lit up lowlight and thermo overlays as well as Life sign tracking. This would keep her from hitting friendlies… that’s the hope anyway.

Phaser bolts flew forth from all 4 members of the squad. Lighting up the security center’s darkness. Zark had indicated one drone and all four security members lit it up, blowing it away quite quickly. Then switching to a second. It too fell but then the third took a few hits staggering back before slowly falling. The fourth’s shields pinged off the phaser bolts.

“Adaptation! Modulate! Spread out, make it choose a target!”   She dove and commando rolled behind a console. Letting the rifle swing down and back on it’s strap she drew the Type II Pulse pistol from it’s holster and popped up from behind the console a trilling laugh escaping her. Her own nervous tick displaying itself at all the wrong times as usual.  Zark tracked for a target and yelped as it flung something at her. She ducked back down behind the console as it rang with the impact. WHANG.

“SHELAT!”

Touching the side of her helmet. “Lieutenant Zark, to Security Forces. Security Center breached! Drones present. High Priority Prisoner just poofed. Repeat: High priority prisoner is in the wind! Requesting assistance!” 

Across the way one of the crewmen fired around the bottom of a console and cut the legs off a drone.

“LT! Their shields are down??”

Zark didn’t have to be told twice. “MOW UM DOWN!!!”

She popped up from behind the console and gripped her Type II Pulse pistol on both hands. Antennae laid back against her helmet and she started peppering the drones hard and fast. Pew pew pew! Pew pew pew! Pew pew pew!!

The young Andorian didn’t know how long the shields would be down but every second meant more fire could be poured into the Borg and that couldn’t hurt. She hoped someone up the chain heard her. That prisoner had 4 guards on him when this all started and now he was gone.

[ Dr. Silim Parnak (https://uss-theurgy.com/w/index.php?title=Silim_Parnak) & Lt. Zelosa Ejek | Counsellor's Office | Deck 11 | Vector 02 | USS Theurgy ] Joint post with @FollowTomorrow
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Space battles were sort of like thunderstorms at this point. In a normal space battle, Ejek had a set of routines to follow. Assist medical, take charge of interrogations, if there are any, and fill in for leadership positions. Despite the normalcy of it, Ejek never could quite adjust to the terror of coming so close to death. This wasn’t a normal situation though; out of everything they came across in Hell sector, they hadn’t crossed the borg. The terror was far more acute. Death breathed down her neck. She felt it like a cold sweat. But she had something that she did not have before. On the Resolve, she did not have Parnak.

Despite the universal borg greeting, designed specifically to strike a cold fear in the hearts of Starfleet officers and civilians alike, she walked with confidence. Her control over herself was the only thing that did not waver in these chaotic times. She opened her office door, gesturing Parnak inside. It was a standard-issue counseling room--a desk with a chair behind it, two chairs side-by-side, minimal decoration, that weird-looking plant present in nearly every room aboard a Federation starship. She did not pardon her decor--there was nothing to pardon here. It was pretty much naked. She reprogrammed her door to be unlocked, free for anyone to enter.

Though bland, there were many things inside the room that surprising to Parnak. After he had handed off the innoculations for medical staff to distribute, he pulled the equipment into the office space and appraised. There were no homely touches, nothing to indicate that the office was indeed used regularly and for that Silim found himself a little disappointed. He had seen Ejek in action with what had happened with Nicander in the brig, yet here she was sterile.

He stopped the hover-dolly into the open space and began to push a chair towards the wall. Wasn’t counsellor's offices supposed to have a chaise lounge? How was a patient supposed to be comfortable sharing intricate details of their lives forced bolt upright? Thought it was a crisis, an emergency in every sense of the word, Parnak had looked forward to a quick lay down between blasting crewmembers with radiation.

“I do not know how long we have just for us.” He called across to his companion. “But at least the equipment won’t take long to set up.”

[ Ryuan Sel | Security Centre Lobby | Deck 07 | USS Theurgy ] attn: Sec teams
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"Lieutenant Zark, to Security Forces. Security Center breached! Drones present. High Priority Prisoner just poofed. Repeat: High priority prisoner is in the wind! Requesting assistance!"

Well fuck. There was only one prisoner that could be. If it were one of the shit-head devoted that would be no big deal. They could just be shot at this point, but Dr. Nicander was different. He was not only harder to take down, but he was also... Sel shook her head. She was getting herself worked up. She needed to stay focused. She had only just locked out the transporter control system. Now she had to guard the relays so the borg didn't come back.

She heard the whoosh of the door and turned to aim her massive Accipter rifle in that direction. When a drone appeared she gave it no time to act, opening fire and letting loose almost 3 seconds of autofire of the tungsten carbide bullets. The bullets slammed into the borg and tore through it before it could adapt. She wondered how many more she'd be able to take out like that. They'd adapt soon enough, for now, she was simply overwhelming their shields and armor with superior firepower, but these were Borg, eventually, that would do no good and she'd be reduced to using concussion blasts. She figured the spatial warping effect would be impossible to adapt to, but it was hard to say for sure. And she didn't like uncertainty.

"Sel to security forces, lock down the main armories on each Vector, we cannot allow the prisoner to get his hands on anything stronger than a hand phaser if we can help it," she barked into her combadge as once more the door slid open and the visage of a Borg appeared. She squeezed the trigger and let the bullets fly, frowning as it took longer to overwhelm the Borg this time. Soon enough they'd adapt and then she'd be fucked if they came in any sort of large numbers.

[ Maya (https://uss-theurgy.com/w/index.php?title=Dr._Maya) | Primary Surgical Bay | Main Sickbay | Deck 11 | Vector 02 | USS Theurgy ] ^{Attn: @Auctor Lucan  @TWilkins @lisavw @FollowTomorrow @Absinthe}

In the meantime, on Deck Eleven in the primary surgical bay connected to the chief medical officer’s office in main sickbay, the casualties were being beamed in and either moved to the intensive care unit or one of the other surgical suites or treated on the biobed in the center of the circular chamber.

Doctor Maya of Vulcan, whose bedside manner was subpar but whose judgement during triage was unimpeded by sentiment or anxiety was overseeing the new arrivals and dispatching them to the appropriate specialists as needed.  Her task was complicated by the fact that so many medical personnel were absent.  Their chief medical officer who doubled as their chief surgeon was in the brig.  Doctor Saugn and both Nurse Vojonas had been abducted by the Savi and now Nurse Jovela had left sickbay.  Doctor Kobol  and Doctor T’Panu was supposed to be taking up the slack but they had left sickbay as well.  That meant that more patients were being treated in the primary surgical bay than intended.

"Beam Chief Petty Officer Abraham Savali to Surgical Suite Two,” Maya ordered.  "Inform the Emergency Medical Hologram attending that Chief Savali has a broken ulna and severe burns on his left hand and forearm.”

“Yes Doctor,” Nurse Jones replied as she made some entries on her PADD.  The balding human male with the grey streaked beard vanished from the biobed in a shower of sparks, taking his injured arm and his singed gold collared uniform with him.  In his place appeared a burly male Denobulan wearing a crimson collared uniform with a master chief’s rank pin.

In normal circumstances Master Chief Petty Officer Klex Sonden appeared to be only half his age, but currently his normally pink and healthy features had acquired a pale and sickly cast.  The left side of his neck was streaked with black, mottled lines that were spreading from two angry puncture marks where the jugular vein on a Terran human would have been.  Even worse, the patch on his neck was spreading to the left side of his face; a second smaller patch was forming on his forehead while a third was forming on his left hand that was trembling as if he had to fight to control it.

“You are very fortunate Master Chief,” Maya announced with clinical coolness as her large hazel eyes narrowed at his injured countenance.  “Your Denobulan immune system seems to be baffling the nanoprobes, but they are persistent and will adapt and keep multiplying.  This gives us a window before you succumb to assimilation.”

“That’s just dandy Doctor,” the Denobulan retorted through clenched teeth.  “Do you have a treatment in mind before I join the enemy?”

“Beam him to radiation therapy and have him subjected to a high level of omicron particles,” the little Vulcan instructed.  “Inform them that they need to expose him to at least one hundred strontium units; we cannot risk the survival of even a single nanoprobe.”

“Yes Doctor,” Nurse Jones replied as she entered Maya’s instructions in her PADD and transferred them to Transporter Room Four and Radiology. 

Maya actually looked the master chief in the eye and allowed the slightest hint of sympathy to show.  “I regret that the procedure will be extremely painful.”

“I believe the expression is ‘no pain no gain,’” Klex Sonden grunted as the familiar hum of the transporter was heard and he disappeared in a shower of silver sparks. 

In his place a comatose Terran male in a charred Starfleet uniform appeared on the biobed.  Leticia Jones gagged at the smell of burnt flesh.

“Crewman Eklund has suffered second and third degree burns over sixty four percent of his body,” Maya announced dispassionately as she picked up a hypospray and injected a liberal amount of medication into his body.  “Prepare him for cryostasis while I stabilize him; we shall attend to his injuries when we have the time.”

[ Dr T'Panu | Hallway Outside Main Sickbay | Deck 11 | Vector 02 | USS Theurgy ] @trevorvw @Lex Dalton

T'Panu looked at Annika, not quite believing her eyes. Had this just happened?? She looked down at the Borg, who had definitely seen better days. His circuitry was sparking, his tubes pulled out, and his face blank. He was quite obviously disconnected, and Annika had made quick work of it, too. T'Panu couldn't believe the force and anger Annika had. She didn't know where such a small thing found so much strength, but she was grateful for it.

"We make a great team, Annika. Thanks for saving me back there! I definitely prefer living to being adapted to the Borg technology. I've grown quite accustomed to having my own mind!”

T’Panu still felt the adrenaline rush racing through her veins. It was like she just finished a marathon, the burn of the fight was still fresh in her blood.

T’Panu thought back to the last time they had encountered the Borg. She thought about how ill equipped they had been for the battle. How the Borg had come and torn through all of their defences, the defences they had used time and time again to defeat all other enemies. They had come through for them every time before.

But this time, they were ready. They had spent much time together planning every defence possible. And if Annika and T’Panu could defeat a Borg drone, she knew the rest of the crew would have no trouble at all.

“Hey Annika, how about later we get a celebratory drink?” T’Panu said cheerfully. She was feeling a little more hopeful, and a little less stuck in her own mind. The camaraderie she felt between her and Annika was growing, and helping her to open up to the rest of the crew.

T’Panu and Annika rounded the corner when they saw it. Lt JG Jovela standing, fists balled, staring with a focused look at the 4 Borg drones. “What do we do??” T’Panu wondered aloud.

No one had any phasers, or weapons of any kind to help them with the fight. But that didn’t stop them with their last battle.

They needed a distraction as they made a game plan. 3 against 4? The odds weren’t in their favour.

T’Panu reacted before she had time to think. She lifted her right arm to grab the nearest object her hand felt. She felt powerful under her own strength, ready to take down these Borg drones and guide them all to safety!

She felt her arm swing through its curved motion towards the Borg drone that was standing second from the right. The object left her hand at a decent speed.

“Take this, you Borg bastard!” T’Panu yelled, as the object went hurtling towards the Borg.

T’Panu imagined the Borg drone severely injured. What she saw instead, however, was a little less heroic.

The object hit the back of his head and shattered. Then she realized what she did. To her right wasn’t a heavy, hard hitting object. It was even a PADD. What she threw instead, was a beaker. A simple, glass, beaker.

The Borg drone stopped. For a second, T’Panu actually thought she did something useful. Then the Borg slowly turned to face her.

“We’re screwed,” T’Panu thought.

[ Commander Carrigan Trent | Stellar Cartography | Deck 16 | USS Theurgy[/b] ] @patches

With the ship in battle and Trent painfully unaware of the tactical situation, he had very little choice as to what he could do.  In effect, he was currently cut off from any position in the chain of command, and he was answering directly to Wenn Cinn.  For all intent and purposes, he was a passenger.  He had given orders, but all he had to back himself up was the fact he was a senior officer, and that hopefully enough people still trusted in his judgement. 

He had sent a team to go and hold off the Borg while he finalized his work on Soup Sandwich... work that frankly was sloppy and relied on a brute force approach rather than the scalpel he knew he could craft, given enough time.  But, then again, he did not have twelve hours and all the computer resources he could ever want; he'd had closer to twenty minutes, if that, and then it would be up to the program to do its thing. 

And now, he had effectively hijacked a security team that had already been deployed, though thankfully in the direction he was headed, and when a bodyguard was assigned to him he simply nodded and placed himself behind the man's shoulder.  He knew plenty of his fellow tactical officers who'd resent that, and would even demand to take command of the team.  But he knew where his strengths lay: he was a man whose expertise was wielding a starship as a weapon, and while he was technically qualified to lead a team in close combat, he knew where the experts in that field really lay.  And as such, he was content being directed and shepherded, following the lead of his burly, armoured minder. 

And before long, they ran into trouble.  Devoted.

There had been plenty of reason to intern them in the same area.  One of them was that it would be easy to cut them off from the rest of the ship.  As to why to put them on Deck 16?  The hangar was already a secured area, and between the pilots and the ground crews, each which had received training that was superior to most in Starfleet with regards to securing an area and surviving a firefight, seemed like a good idea.  But now, at least some of them were loose. 

From where he was kept put, Trent listened to the conversation around the corner, and when the team's leader, a Petty Officer Taer, came back, he nodded. "I'm not a negotiator, but I'll see what I can do.  Have your teams switch to sidearms, set to stun.  Keep your rifles ready to deal with the Borg.  Make sure they don't come up behind.  I'm going to have a word with this McPherson fellow."  As he spoke, the Commander reached for the holster for his phaser and detached it from his uniform and handed it to his minder, before tucking his own weapon into his trousers just behind his right hip, concealed by his jacket.  

"Hold your fire, I'm coming to talk." 

The erstwhile XO came around the corner, his hands well in evidence.  Basic Starfleet Intelligence training did include some more advanced close combat, but he knew he was not to the level of Security, and what he mostly had were dirty tricks; actual spies would receive yet more, and be true forces to be reckoned with.  But he was an analyst and a tactician, not a covert operative.  "Petty Officer McPherson, riddle me this: you storm the bridge, who will fly the ship?  Operate its weapons?  Its systems?  Take command?  I know there are a few Devoted who are Bridge-qualified, but I can tell you their access to all systems was rescinded; they would be standing in front of inert consoles.  And if you compromise the command of this ship right now, we would all be fortunate if all that happened was our deaths." 

He felt the yes on him.  They knew the ship was fighting with the Borg, so it was very likely they had known he had been the victim of a mutiny of his own.  That was something that would need addressing at some point, but now was not the time.  "I was removed from command by Dewitt because I meant to mount a rescue if we had the capability.  And yes, Commander Wenn did not see it fit to reinstate me to command, and I have no intention of allowing a mutiny to start.  His judgement was he needed to address the Borg threat first.  I am not convinced it is the right course of action, but I have his word that once this is dealt with, we will go after our people."

He took a deep breath.  So far, his words had not been interrupted, and he had yet to be shot.  So far, so good.  But then again, someone falling from the top of a skyscraper would have the time to say that a few times before hitting the ground. "You were Security, Mister McPherson.  As was your friend.  Have either of you ever known Wenn Cinn, who himself returned from the dead, to lie?"

[ Lt. Kai Akoni | Nearing the Main Computer Core | USS Theurgy ] @Absinthe @Auctor Lucan

The large Acting Chief of Security had just climbed up a number of decks via the Jeffries tube. He had been impressed that he made it so quickly up there; he was thankful for his physical conditioning, not to mention the fact he had large amounts of epinephrine coursing through his body all thanks to his sympathetic nervous system kicking into high gear. He exited the Jeffries Tube and started sprinting down the corridor to the entrance of the computer core. He could hear the distinct sound of Starfleet phaser fire from up ahead.

Kai rounded the bend in the corridor and saw that Kingston had just stepped forward into the computer core. Akoni brought his Accipiter to the ready as he neared the entrance to the core and stepped through the door ready to fire on whatever Borg were in there. Kingston had already dispatched four drones by the time Kai got into the room. Kai then aimed at the nearest drone and fired. The tungsten carbide bullets left the Accipiter and drove themselves into the drone in a fraction of a second before exiting the drone and impacting the bulkhead behind it, albeit at a slower speed. The drone seemed to spark and convulse from the impacts before collapsing to the deck plating in a heap. Kai turned his sights to the next drone just in time to see the bullets from Kingston’s Accipiter slam into the drone in a similar fashion.

Kai’s breathing was heavy as he scanned the rest of the room with the rifle at the ready. He didn’t see any more drones.

”Clear!” Kai said as he nodded towards Kingston who had nodded back at him. ”Let’s see what these assholes were trying to do” he said as he made his way to the nearest console to see what the Borg were trying to do. As his fingers flew over the smooth panel touching the buttons at a lighting rate, the information he was looking for appeared before his eyes. His heart dropped a bit as if he were in a zero-g environment. He realized that not only were the Borg looking for Nicander, but they were also attempting to access the self destruct sequence. Before he could voice this to Kingston, his combadge came alive.

[Sel to security forces, lock down the main armoires on each Vector, we cannot allow the prisoner to get his hands on anything stronger than a hand phaser if we can help it.]

Kai sighed, and tapped his combadge ”Akoni to all security, the Borg are looking for Nicander. We need to find him before they do.”. As he finished speaking, two more security officers came to the computer core to secure it, allowing both Kingston and Akoni to move along to the next place they were needed.

Kai turned to Kingston and asked ”Not only do we have to get rid of the Borg, we have to find Nicander before they do. Any suggestions?”

[Lt. Rhys Williams| Corridor| Deck 11| USS Theurgy] attn: anyone who wants to get involved.

Rhys was tired, more tired than he had felt in a long time. He had spent what felt like years helping out the medical personnel in sickbay. Granted the company had been pleasant, Doctor Kobol  was certainly a handsome guy but he had not be able to try his own unique brand of shy awkward flirting on the man.

Rhys had mostly tried to calm people down and where possible used his basic first aid skills. He had even got to help the good doctor with an operation, which had been horrifying and brought up a lot of unpleasant memories. However he now had even more respect for medical personnel than he had done before.

After more than two hours, he had needed to escape for a moment. It was a benefit that he was not part of the Theurgy’s command structure that he could kind of get away with that. It was probably a shitty thing to do and doubtless he would feel guilty later but right now he needed coffee and a moment to himself.

Life and the universe however were about to conspire against him. He walked down a corridor on deck eleven, coming the other way was a boyish faced crewman who looked like he was part of the engineering team. Rhys gave him a polite smile as they were about to cross paths. When the ship rocked, violently. A conduit nearby erupted from one of bulkheads showering the corridor in  bright sparks. Rhys felt wreckage club him on the back and send him sprawling to the ground. He heard a scream. Coughing and spluttering Rhys looked up. Pinned beneath the part of a bulkhead, screaming and lashing out was the young crewman. Rhys gingerly pulled himself up, he had been hit to but what ever the mangled mess was that had hit him it was too light to pin him down.

Dusty and bloodied, Rhys limped towards the twisted mess on the floor. “HELP HELP!” screamed the boy in desperation. “Calm,” said Rhys dropping to a knee by the young man’s side. “I am here, there is nothing to be worried about.”

[WE ARE THE BORG. WE WILL ADD YOUR BIOLOGICAL AND TECHNOLOGICAL DISTINCTIVENESS TO OUR OWN. YOUR CULTURE WILL ADAPT TO SERVICE US. RESISTANCE IS FUTILE.]

Rhys heard those words in his nightmares and they sent a chill down his spine. “Okay… maybe there is something to worry about.” He almost wished he was down their screaming with the crewman.

“No the Borg… NO NO!”

“Its ok shhh.. calm they won’t get you.” He had no idea if this was true or not, but he knew this fellow was going to be a sitting duck if they got boarded.”Right how am I going to get you out?”  The young man was pinned a large lump of twisted bulkhead laying across his leg. He was terrified, but he knew he had to be the picture of calm here. He was the officer after all. “What’s your name?”

“Tom.”

“Ok Tom, well I am going to try to get you out of here. Stay still ok?” Rhys braced his shoulder against the metal attempting to lift it or move it, but it was stuck solid. There seemed to be no way to slide Tom out either. Hitting his combadge, he spoke with a slight hint of desperation. “Damage control team? Medical team? Anyone this is Lieutenant Williams, I have a man trapped in wreckage down here.”

There was a pause and then an irritable voice sounded on the other side. “We have people trapped all over the ship we will get to you when we can. Damage control team out.”

“Well looks like its just you and me.” He looked down the corridor in the direction of sickbay and found that It was collapsed and impassible to. Rhys sat down next to Tom, and opened the emergency medical kit he had been carrying and proceeded to scan him with the tricorder. “You won’t leave me will you?” Said Tom his voice pregnant with fear.  Rhys winked. “Not a chance… not a chance.”

[ Lieutenant Elro Kobol | Corridors | Deck 7 | Vector 02 | USS Theurgy ]

Elro found himself feeling irrepressibly anxious. It was a sharply nauseating feeling. It was a reminder of being back on the Endeavour with his sickbay flooded with casualties, crewmen strewn down the corridors getting trampled in the desperate attempt to escape. It was similar, but it didn’t feel quite the same… Somehow it felt calmer, quieter… He imagined that it might have been because, from what he knew, the Theurgy wasn’t alone this time. They had fighters, Klingons, distractions… Still, Elro felt that the quiet was worse. It was an engulfing maelstrom of oppressive silence. At least with the noise, he couldn’t hear the sound of his own heart trying to hammer its way out of his chest, nor his slightly raged stridor…

Whilst he usually appreciated silence, or quiet at least, this particular silence was the harbinger of fear.

He drew his dark eyes around the Sickbay, scanning the four walls brimming with patients in various states of recovery. Most were the wounded from either Vector One or the Bellerophon, those who weren’t injured badly enough to require the facilities of main sickbay. A few stragglers had arrived, those injured by the impacts to the shield, falling debris, minor burns, concussions, nothing that a nurse couldn’t have handled.

He felt a little wasted.

If he wasn’t flooded with casualties, where were the casualties? The Borg weren’t a friendly group, which meant that assimilations and injuries were happening elsewhere on the ship. He wondered whether main sickbay needed him, whether they would need his assistance down on deck eleven where all of the casualties were…

No.

If they needed him, they would call. Elro could only assume that the main bulk of the injuries weren’t ones that landed someone in sickbay. He guessed that anyone the Borg didn’t assimilate, they killed. Despite that knowledge, Elro still felt useless. What sort of Doctor lingered in a stagnant Sickbay, whilst the rest of the ship were fighting to save themselves? He’d be more use in the field, where the injuries were.

Nobody was getting to his doors.

[D-ma-g con-l te-? Me-ic-al t-m? An-ne th- Lieu-nt Wi-ms, h-ve tr-ped in wr-eck d-n h-re.]

The comm system choked out half of a transmission, possibly caused by interference or Borg bastardising the computer systems… Elro couldn’t make out much, not enough to put together any sort of response to the message without knowing more information.

“Computer please identify source of this transmission.” Elro barked into the air, feeling his hands shuddering a little at the rush of adrenaline he was feeling.

[Deck Eleven.]

Deck Eleven? Main Sickbay? They must have been requesting support. Elro bit his lip. Wasn’t he just telling himself that he needed to get out of the Sickbay? To go and support the rest of the ship? Now that the idea was presenting itself to him, it didn’t seem quite so appealing. Main sickbay was three decks down… A lot of Borg could get in the way of three decks…

And if they were requesting support in the first place, what did that mean? Borg attacking? Injuries drowning the Sickbay that had been mostly full before he'd left it? Perhaps the medical staff had taken a loss?

He felt his hands shaking again, his sweat cold, his eyes threatening to tear up. He knew that his duty was to leave and go to support the rest of the team, but his legs wouldn’t respond to him. He was stuck, frozen in place by his own fear. He was seeing flashes of Borg in his mind’s eye, images of that poor assimilated boy whom he’d euthanised back on the Endeavour, visions of others sharing the same fate. Ducote, Kai, Vael, Rez, Trent, Rhys… Derik. He didn’t know many people aboard the Theurgy, but somehow Elro was easily finding himself distraught at the concept of losing even a single more soul.

The Borg were a festering plague. But one that no amount of medical expertis would ever erradicate. Like cockroaches or bacteria, only one needed to survive and they would have an entire race once again. He was terrified, but also angry. Furious of everything. Parasites, Borg, Klingons... The entire galaxy had shifted in his perspective in just a week. He'd felt safe. Now he felt that danger was lurking around every corner...

It was atypical of Elro. Anger, fear, paranoia. They weren't emotions he was accustomed to dealing with. It was unpleasant and new and it distracted him from his focus enough that he felt his control teeter on the edge for a heartbeat of chest-stilling silence. Then it slipped, his paracortex widening open to a cacophony of emotions that buffeted him like a typhoon, making him lean back onto a biobed with his hands clutching at his head. Fear, so much sheer terror, it drowned out the bright lights of determination, steely grit, even a sick enjoyment at being in a battle. It myred all of the possible positive emotions with a cloying stench that gripped everything like the web of a colossal spider.

He swore that somewhere, he heard the toxic whispers of the Borg in the back of his mind. He knew that he couldn’t have, the Borg sharing a synthetic hive mind that he wouldn’t be able to reach with his abilities…

Elro took a deep, cleansing breath that echoed down into his core. Losing control so briefly was enough to remind him of life when he was young, when he constantly battled with hearing overwhelming orchestras of thoughts and emotions just by walking down the street. The Borg… They were affecting him a lot more than he had anticipated… Was he even fit for duty if he couldn't keep himself under control?

It hardly mattered. He had a duty and he refused to let the Borg ruin anything else for him. Perhaps a splash of the combined fear of half of the crew put enough into perspective for him... He had more to worry about than just himself. He grit his teeth and straightened himself, clutching a medical kit up from a nearby station and making a move towards the doors to the Sickbay.

“I’m heading out to Deck Eleven, it sounds like the comms are down so…” He began, tapping on the panel next to the door to open it, only for the doors to open directly into the shoulder of a cluster Borg drones who had been working to assimilate one of the consoles in the corridor. The closest drone stopped its work, turning its head grotesquely as it fixed its eye and optical array on the Betazoid before him. Then it turned its body, and took a step forwards.

“Computer activate emergency seal on the doors to sickbay now!” Elro shouted, perhaps screamed would have been a better term, launching himself backwards with a leap that wouldn’t have been out of place in Don Quixote. The doors shut, but not before an arm plunged its way into the door’s path, getting severed cleanly and falling to the floor like a limp fish. “Everyone into the Jefferies tubes now!” Elro shouted again, moving over to a medical console immediately, his mind working like wildfire as he realised that the combined lot of patients, staff and security currently in the Sickbay would not make it far into the Jefferies tubes with a quad of Borg hot on their tail.

He had a duty of care to keep them safe. And he had just about muddled together a way to do just that.

He always had believed that necessity was the mother of invention...

“Computer create a forcefield with a radius of two metres extending in from the sickbay doors and seal.” He turned his head quickly to watch over his shoulder as a dome materialised around the doorway with the typical shimmer of a Federation forcefield. “Fill the dome with gas combination Axanar Beta Three.” He turned, the only indication of the gas being released being the computer’s indication display on the monitor.

“Doctor, they’ll just walk through, we’ve got to go!” A security officer called into his ear, but Elro dismissed them, hunched over his console in concentration, adjusting the forcefield configuration to permit nadion particles to pass through the barrier.

“If they get that far…” He muttered, getting out his trusty exoscalpel and pointing it at the other side of the force field, getting close to it and activating. A scratch appeared on the section of the wall he was pointing it at. Good. “Axanar prefer a nitrogen-methane atmosphere, and this particular configuration goes heavy on the methane…” Elro spun around and pointed to his side of the force field, using his exoscalpel on the carpet and nodding as it singed ever so slightly.

He didn’t quite understand… He didn't feel brave or heroic. He was still scared, perhaps now more than he had been before. He wasn't some adrenalline junkie Security guard... He was barely even confident, that his drafted scientific defence would be sufficient. He hoped it was enough, at least to delay them. The theory was there, and it had no reason not to work when they walked through the door. Perhaps the nausiatingly exhilerating feeling of danger whipping through his body was the reason some people took up roles in security… The feeling of dancing on a knife edge with death only one wrong step away...

Elro couldn’t truthfully say that he enjoyed the feeling…

[ Dyan Cardamone/Sar-unga Neleo | Corridors | Deck 7 | Vector 02 | USS Theurgy ] @TWilkins
Ah, but yes, it was a flash of green. More than that, it was a flash of fleshy green, not cybernetic green. Dyan grinned, her teeth bared in a way that suggested she was hungry for something. Her objective could wait. There was a snake about. A snake with no ranged weaponry that she knew of. A snake who would die in seconds against a borg, maybe a few more seconds versus herself. So she followed the green flash, knowing exactly who this flash was, knowing what kind of trouble she’d be getting up to.

For a moment she wasn’t sure where he was headed. Maybe he didn’t know where he was headed either, because he fell over a suffering, writhing, poor soul. Truly a sight that would incur pity and sorrow in lesser warriors. Before the little spy could do anything worthwhile besides gawk, he was knocked forward, into a bulkhead. She’d giggle, if she could, but the moment was moving too quick. A new drone, formerly klingon, and Y’lev had weapons after all--his rings. She grinned wickedly to herself as she noticed her blade was bigger.

He went after the drone, and bounced off the forcefield. Ah, so her own blade wouldn’t work. She readied her graviton weapon, walked out from around the corner, aimed at the drone. She was behind the drone, she could see Y’lev’s eyes from the end of the corridor.
“Out the way, spy!” She called out, laughing as she squeezed the trigger. A bright bolt of light from her gun cut through the drone’s body. It was as if an invisible knife had been shot through the air, making a clean cut through the drone’s torso. If Y’lev were still in the way, he’d find himself marked with a similar clean cut, and likely dead to boot.

The legs, standing upright as they were, continued to stand, but the upper half of the torso began sliding off, hitting the ground in a theatrical way. Dyan approached, and kicked down the legs before they fell on their own. She was keen to make an entrance, it seemed.
“All alone during a borg attack. Who will end your life when you can no longer run or fight, huh?” She swaggered closer, stepping over the body. She walked as if she were bigger than she really was. Like a predator towards prey. She moved to ball her fist in his hair to bring him close, making him listen.
“After all, can’t let that precious intel in your head become assimilated, huh?”

---

[ Zelosa Ejek | Counsellor's Office | Deck 11 | Vector 02 | USS Theurgy ] @Arista

There was some darkness in the corners of this room. It was not lit up so harshly like the rest of the ship. In her moment’s pause, she thought she saw the shadows move. It wasn’t the shadows moving though, just her fears. She turned away from them and towards the other Cardassian in the room. He wasn’t quite bathed in light, but she thought she saw the scales on his neck glisten. Sweat, maybe? Or just her imagination providing some visual metaphors for her subconscious thought processes?

He was working. She admired that he could keep his composure in times like this. Not that she expected otherwise--just that so few people were able to do so anymore. He was glancing over her domain, barely even hers for a full week when this happened, and he was working. As if it were all nothing.

Although it would be foolish of her to pick up the habit of being free and loose with her words, she could admit to herself that she wished she had the skill here. The ability to say what must be said before one or both of them meet their demise, the ability to do what she wants to do before she lives the rest of her life regretting her inaction...As she watched him work, she felt her heart ache, and ache so sharply it almost made her cry.

She couldn’t keep holding back the way she was. She held back while sharing dinner and breakfast with Parnak and what good did it do her? How did she feel about it now? And how would she feel if she were robbed the chance of ever making it right again? She steeled herself, approaching the other, and when she spoke her voice was decidedly un-steeled. Her metaphorical shields lowered.
“Parnak…” She turned to meet his eyes, but...what words did she have? What could she say? ‘Don’t die?’ That was stupid. It’s not like he had any choice over that. ‘Be safe?’ Of course he would try to be safe, he wasn’t an idiot. What could she say? What could she say??

Instead, she found her hand reaching out towards his, with the sort of timidity and maybe even shame one would expect of a girl rather than the woman she was. Her fingers found the palm of his hand, and she paused, wondering if she was out of line. She should run, hide, find a nice container about her size…

But she didn’t. She pressed onward, taking his hand in her own, holding it tight and feeling his relative warmth under her soft, well-cared-for hands. Her eyes met his, and she did not know what her face looked like. She was not putting up her facade. Perhaps in that moment, she looked scared, she looked worried, and maybe even thankful for the joy he offered her in that short time. And she held him, and was still among the chaos undoubtedly spawning on the ship. It felt like a lifetime. It was only a minute.

“...Thank you.” She hesitated, again forcibly stopped by her own fears of what would happen. She continued, because the fear of regret was greater. “...Thank you for offering me your company and time.”
She offered him these words, a few seconds more of precious, comforting touch, before someone outside called out ‘boarders!’. She let him go, her eyes left his, and she moved away to begin what could be her next job, or her last.

She realized, as she walked out that room, that she had so many people she wished she could share a precious moment like that with. Despite her mask of professionalism, she inwardly wanted to weep bitterly. She was about to lose it all, all over again, wasn’t she?

[ Y'Lev | Corridors | Deck 7 | USS Theurgy ] @FollowTomorrow

Y’Lev couldn’t help but grimace as the formerly Klingon automaton clacked against the bulkhead, severed cleanly in half by a beam of energy the shade of the Naloven sea. The torso slid grotesquely across the severed waist in a manner not dissimilar to a fish slipping off of a freshly waxed deck and back into the ocean. Of course, the spray of salty air would have been greatly prefered over the splattering of tepid blood…

Regardless, he couldn’t help but appreciate the artistry of such a kill. Especially when inflicted upon such an artless automaton that provided no beauty to the universe in life. At least it had the fortune of suffering a somewhat artistic death. Whilst perhaps not ‘beautiful’ as such, it was at least demonstrative of a degree of artistry that any Orion would have appreciated for its aesthetic value.

Of course, the tantalisingly slow descent of the torso was ruined swiftly; he didn’t need to glance up when the goat pranced along the corridor and kicked over the still-stable legs, knocking them to the bulkhead with a resonating clang. If she thought she was being impressive, she wasn’t. She was being ludicrous and barbaric. Then, that was hardly a surprise.

“All alone during a Borg attack. Who will end your life when you can no longer run or fight, huh?" The goat-woman taunted, moving over the body of the bisected automaton with a distasteful swagger that was more akin to the movements of someone who hadn’t quite reached the bathroom in time… It was as though the horned harridan thought she were so much more than what she was. Had Y’Lev been in the mood, he possessed a pair of dancerdaggers that he imagined would have looked delightful sticking out of her eyeballs… 

The harriden’s next move was her decision to put one of her grubby, clammy hands into Y’Lev’s hair, balling her fist and dragging at his delightfully soft hair like a dopey cow chewing on a mouthful of grass. Touching his hair? Enough of an offence that Y’Lev had half a mind to hamstring the woman and leave her writhing on the deck to the mercy of the next shambling automaton that decided to blunder past. However… She had saved his life, even shouted out like a gangling oaf for him to move out of the way of her shot. He guessed that it wouldn’t be particularly cordial to disassemble her lower legs…

Not that he wouldn’t have found his way out of the fight with the shambling cyborg… But she’d certainly saved him from having to expend too much effort. He’d not broken so much as a sweat. A shame. His pheromonal suppressant was definitely due a new dose soon; sweating would only clear it from his system faster.

"After all, can't let that precious intel in your head become assimilated, huh?" Her repugnant breath tickled, or perhaps scolded, the shell of his ear as she pulled him in close.

She was an interesting character to encounter… She had apparently quite aptly worked out that he was more than he appeared, despite the obviousness that it was a lucky blunder in the dark rather than an informed choice based on any solid information… Still, she had also elected to save him, based on said choice, rather than kill him. Execution was hardly the Starfleet way… But then again, neither was gauging someone’s chest. He couldn’t quite place her intentions.

If he were to deny being a spy, she would most likely not believe him; she had now seen his daggers and that was a clear cut way of rooting someone out of a typical yellow-chest. If he were to confirm that he was a spy, she might change her tune just to spite him, or she might go to her superiors and get Y’Lev confined to the brig. Either way his options landed himself in no more favorable ground than the position he was stuck in; sprawled on the deck with a fist in his hair… Until he achieved his mission, he wasn’t planning to risk any compromise to his position…

So he decided that her best response would be the response most typical of any Orion in his situation. To talk about something entirely different.

“This ship has to be the most violent in the fleet…” Y’Lev attempted to sound flippant, but the tight grip of the hand in his hair made his voice hiss somewhat. “That’s the Bellerophon and now the Borg, in a space of what, an hour?” He continued his breezy speech, hissing out when a strand of hair got pulled especially hard from the motions. “That’s the work of a crew who have something particularly important to live for.”

Y’Lev gestured up with his dancerdagger and tapped the wrist of his aggressor, the flat of the blade coldly pressing against her skin with a solid thump. Not hard enough to hurt her, but hopefully enough to encourage her to let go. If she elected not too of course, he had his other dagger ready to plunge into her thigh at the first opportunity. He was also torn between keeping his eyes on the scheming goat, and making sure to monitor the partially assimilated man on the deck with them. Something about his still form didn’t quite add up.

“So how about you let me go…” He silkily asked her, tapping his dagger against her wrist a second time to offer a dash more encouragement, the blade poised against her wrist so that should she get a little more belligerent than necessary, he could stab through her and move her arm like a marionette. Y’Lev couldn’t help but discover a small smile a the mental image of that particular dance… “And share with me exactly what it is that you and your ship are so very eager to die for…”

[ Lt. Cmdr Hathev | Upper Shuttle Bay | Deck 11 | Vector 01 | USS Theurgy ]

Hathev had received only the most cursory of briefings on the USS Theurgy when she was brought aboard the Bellerophon mere days ago, but the information had been more than adequate for her to make her judgement. A dissident ship crewed by rebels, mutineers, traitors, and deserters; the last ship in the galaxy she had ever wanted to set foot on, and a ship she absolutely refused to die on.

And so when the forcefield containing the survivors of the Bellerophon in the cargo bay died along with the rest of the power, she decided escape, however unlikely, was far preferable to waiting to be assimilated. Her chances were slim to none, but if she could make it to the shuttle bay and commandeer a vessel, at least she would not have to join the Collective alongside the likes of the Theurgy’s crew.

The few minutes it took for Hathev to make it to the shuttle bay were the most horrifying of her life. All it took was for her to round a single corner and there it was, a figure slumped against the wall. It turned to look at her as she approached, and she felt the air leave her lungs. Its eyes were red and glowing, its skin stretched and gaunt, half its face absorbed by cruel metal plating. Horror froze her in place as it lurched towards her, breath whistling and whirring, tubes slithering out of its arms as they reached for her. Whatever this creature had once been — an officer, she saw, the gold pips nearly obscured by the writhing mass of synthetics spewing from what flesh remained — whatever it once was, it was now part of the Collective, assimilated into a being of inexorable purpose and cold calculation.

She would not join it. She would not let it have her.

She turned and fled, and made the rest of the journey to the shuttle bay with unfaltering steps even as her heart beat faster with each distant spate of phaser fire, with each corner a drone could be hiding behind, with each lurch of the ship. She saw no more of the Borg, but the traces they left behind were everywhere, mangled bodies and green-tinged consoles strewn in their wake. Why were the Borg even here? There had been no mention of the Borg in her briefing, and one might think they would have been a pertinent detail to bring up, considering she now found herself faced with them with no prior warning or consultation. (To say nothing of the fact that she was on this ship with similarly little warning or choice; to some extent the same had been true of even the Bellerophon. She had never intended her return to active duty to be so, well, active.)

But this was something for later. Now was time to focus.

The shuttle bay, when she made it there, was already teeming with survivors from the Bellerophon; apparently they'd all had the same idea. There would be plenty of shuttles for them all, and it looked like one of the officers was organising them into groups. Hathev entered, the doors hissing closed behind her, and approached the officer with the intention of offering her services. She had barely made it ten paces when the screaming started.

One of the survivors, a young human woman, convulsed and fell to her knees; when next she looked up, her eyes were red and angry, her skin mottling to silver, tubes snaking out of her to sink their fangs into the petty that came to help.

Not one among the survivors was armed. And as the doors hissed behind her, Hathev turned to see two more Borg drones lurch into the bay.

Fear took over. All it took was one person breaking ranks, pushing towards a shuttle in desperation, and then there was a stampede as any semblance of order was effectively spaced. People fought, trampled those that fell to the ground, pulled others out of the shuttles; some ran to the bay's doors, trying to find a way out there; others grabbed whatever detritus they could find and tried to fight the drones, only to join the enemy's ranks. And all the while, the Borg advanced, and fired, and assimilated, and advanced.

And then the sound of an engine powering up filled the bay, and Hathev saw another ship, further away than the shuttles, begin to rise off the ground and turn towards the Borg, slow and deliberate. Its armaments whirred, gathering energy... and then it unloaded into the Borg.

Hathev threw herself behind the nearest cover as phaser bolts lanced over her head, listening to the unholy sounds of the drones being destroyed, to the screech of metal and clatter of tubing as they fell. The acrid stench of burnt flesh caught in the back of her throat; she dug her nails into her palms, and waited for the horror to end.

[ Lt. JG Adam Kingston (https://orig00.deviantart.net/1cf3/f/2018/249/c/8/adam_kningston_by_auctor_lucan-dcm5pot.png) | Corridor | Deck 04 | USS Theurgy ]
^{Attn: @trevorvw}
[Show/Hide]Kai Akoni had joined Kingston in the computer core - the centre of it still bereft of Thea's positronic brain - and together, they had dispatched the last present drones.

Afterwards, it was quickly revealed that not only had the high security prisoner - Nicander - escaped, but for some reason the drones had gone out of their way to try and assimilate him too. Akoni poignantly illustrated the challenge for them, but as to what they might do, Kingston only had the most obvious of ideas to resort to. "Checking internal sensors," he said in his hoarse voice and then shook his helmet. "No joy. He doesn't show up anywhere aboard, but I doubt he's somewhere out there."

Suddenly, the whole ship rocked harder than it had done before. Once, twice, three times. It appeared that the Borg were making some kind of retaliation, and the Theurgy was suffering for it. Kingston had activated the mag locks, but he still had to keep his balance while his ecosuit boots were nailed to the deck. Eventually, after an EPS conduit had blown overhead and sent sparks raining over them, the retaliatory strikes ceased, and Kingstron tapped the side of his helmet. "This is Kingston and Akoni to all security teams, report in descending order of designation."

[This is Alpha team,] came the reply in both their helmets. [I'm on Deck 4 and I've lost three people. I am now alone. Karlsson was sucked out of a hull breach, over. There are two drones here, and I need reinforcements!]

[Bravo team here, all accounted for, but we're sealed off by debris here on Deck 6. We sighted the Bellerophon survivors, heading for the Upper Shuttle Bay. I repeat, those from the Bellerophon are on the loose.]

[Charlie team! We're engaged the Borg here in the Aboretum, using the undergrowth for cover. I think we lost Pilkington. Last we saw him he fell into one of the ponds while fighting two drones. He's in a suit, but visibility has to be zero down there.]

[Delta team. Everett. They have adapted. I'm sorry. I won't be assimilated...] The sound of a phaser, discharging, and then clattering against deck plating.

Kingston swore. If the Borg had adapted, there was only one thing to do. After trading a glance with Akoni, he gave the order. "Kingston to all teams. Resort to graviton beam weaponry and alternative measures, fall back to defend security areas, over!"

There were shuffling noises outside the doors, and then... they were no longer alone. Curling his upper lip, Adam raised his Accipiter, letting Akoni handle comms. More drones were stepping through, and they were trapped.

[ Ens. Cir'Cie (https://uss-theurgy.com/w/index.php?title=Cir%27Cie) | Main Engineering | Deck 25 | USS Theurgy ]
^{Attn: @alphawiz @Doc M.}
[Show/Hide]Catching the phaser that Kaylon Jeen tossed her way, Cir'Cie calmly raised the muzzle against the closest advancing drone, raised the setting, and opened fire. The close proximity might have begotten fear, but of this, there was no sign in Cir'Cie's face.

The beam hit centre-chest, and made the metal and ribcage collapse. Yet before her beam had hit, both Jeen and O'Connell had fired as well, making that particular drone more than adequately deactivated. She returned her attention to the console in front of her, making sure that the calibrations weren't off, and it seemed they had managed to keep the shields up for the time being.

Unfortunately, it didn't last.

The sliding doors parted, and new drones filed in. Three of them, the first raising its arm against Cir'Cie. Instinctually, she ducked, narrowly avoiding the disruptor blast sent in her direction. She reached up, found the handle of her phaser and began to fire anew  an eyebrow raised against the drone in question. It went down... but that was the end of their luck in Engineering.

The Theurgy was hit, hard, several times, and there was no way to remain standing without support. The drones were not so easily toppled, advancing further inside the area. Cir'Cie held on to the edge of the table, narrowly avoiding to fall at the feet of the drones. On one knee, she raised her phaser again, fired....

...only to find that the drone had adapted. Her eyes didn't widen. She shouldn't be surprised. Much less so when the drone seized her by the neck and lifted her clean off her feet. She could no longer speak. Instinctively, she tried to pry those metal fingers off herself. To her credit, she wasn't afraid, even when the drone's other arm rose...

...the assimilation tubes about to enter her.

[ Sera vers Aldnoah (https://uss-theurgy.com/w/index.php?title=Sera_vers_Aldnoah) | Upper Shuttle Bay | Deck 11 | Vector 01 | USS Theurgy ] 
^{Attn: @fiendfall} 
[Show/Hide]In her cockpit, Sera was grinning and picking off the drones in sight, one by one, with the Sabine's pulse phaser turrets.

Of course, she took careful aim, making sure not to hit the Starfleeters that were running around the shuttle bay. She learned soon, however, that she would have to give them directions. They were a panicked mob, and she appeared to be the only one able to do something about the drones. She tapped into the external PA system of the Sabine, since it was time they got out of the way.

"Hey! Fleeters! Gather at this side of the blasted bay, head me? Over there, you'll just risk running in front of my crosshairs, all right? I won't shoot you, okay? Now, move!"

At first, it seemed to be working well. She picked off more of the drones, there were no soft bodies in the way, and she was slowly beginning to think that she'd clear them all out. Of course, as had been her luck since she came aboard the bloody starship, her luck ran out. The Theurgy took some devastating hits, and after that, her phasers were rendered ineffective. Meaning that the Borg had adapted. "Bloody ashes!"

Sera leaned forward, checking on the people on her side of the shuttle bay. With so many Starfleeters in the bay, she couldn't very well start firing micro torpedoes. She cursed, knowing that if her weapon systems weren't any options, she had to become creative. She opened up the external audio channel again. "I'm going to turn the ship around, so down on the flaming deck, okay?"

Said and done, she swung the Sabine around, and lowered her altitude. There were three more drones, advancing towards her and the people below, and very little time. With her teeth bare behind her visor, she got her micro fusion thrusters where she wanted them to be, and calibrated her forward thrusters to compensate for the momentum. "Fire in the hole!"

She scourged the drones with her thrusters, and then had to do a trick turn lest she'd crash into the bay doors. Only she did, but only enough to scratch up the port side of her ship - sparks raining down on the Starfleeters. Then, she had to level out, before she crushed anyone below her, and she solved it by taking the Sabine further into the bay. Just enough to spare the lives of those she'd protected. As for the drones, they were charred pieces, only one of them still crawling - without a lower body - towards the bay doors. The stunt she had pulled had her heart racing, and she decided to pop the airlock and walk out, her disruptor still in hand.

"Everyone okay?" she called towards the huddling officers, while she looked around for more drones.

She couldn't shake the feeling it wasn't over yet...

---

OOC: The Borg have adapted, so henceforth, let that be reflected in your posts. However, towards the end of your posts, the Versant should have fired against the cube, and given the level of devastation done to the cube, its shield matrix and the linked drones are rendered vulnerable again.

Please bear in mind that while this thread is available for all, you may all start up Supplemental threads too, if that would be your preference. The naming convention of such Supplemental threads would be CH05: S [D06|1110] Insert Title. I will not be adding objectives here for the time being since there are still ones not covered since last I posted. But given time, I can add some more later on. It depends a bit on the development in the main Chapter 05 thread. In any case, happy Borg hunting!

[ Lieutenant Junior Grade Zark (https://uss-theurgy.com/w/index.php?title=XamotZark_zh%E2%80%99Ptrell) | Security Center | Deck 07 | Vector: Combined | USS Theurgy ]
[Show/Hide]

Zark’s pulse pistol had rained down bolts on the unshielded Borg, dropping one.. then another. She’d adjusted the frequency to fire more Andorian standard, so the blasts were brilliant blue. She figured if the Borg where running the numbers to adjust to Fed standard blasts, a few blue bolts might shake things up a bit.

The three Security crewmen with her were taking advantage of the shield-less borg as well. The three of them had dropped two more Borg between them. Then the ship shook. BOOM! And one of the crewmen went flying over a console.

Zark engaged her mag boots and crouched. BOOM BOOM! Two more heavy hits overloaded the local internal dampeners and people tumbled. Zark held onto the console she was taking cover behind and looked around. Peeking up over the top she saw the crewmen picking themselves up, one scrambling for a phaser.

“No!”

He grabbed the dropped weapon just as the drone lanced it’s hand down and injected him with nanoprobes. Zark stood and fired her pistol. Because she’d changed up the frequency she got in one more hit, staggering the drone. It’s tubes coming out of the crewman’s neck but not killing it. It’s dead fish eye turned towards Zark and he raised his weapon arm.  Zark saw the weapon aperture opening and disengaged her mag boots. Placing one up on the console she launched herself up. The Borg fired off a forced plasma beam that lanced through the air, and the space she had just vacated. Well over a decade of gymnastics training came into play as the Andorian cut a flip in the air. Landing on her toes she threw her self to the side as the Borg tried to re-acquire his target and fired again! Landing she rolled hard and a laugh escaped her. Coming up to a knee she raised her pistol but he was firing again. This time she dove forward ‘’below” the line of the beam. Landing hard in the Exosuit, a string of near manic laughter was coming now.

She better figure out something quick. Or she was going to be a blue mist on the wind! A transmission came through her helmet "Kingston to all teams. Resort to graviton beam weaponry and alternative measures, fall back to defend security areas, over!"

Oh, yes. She’d noticed the adaptation. Left hand swung down and the pistol was holstered. She called out to the remaining crewmen still able to fight. “Change it up!"

Rolling to the side she got her feet under her, and charged. Antennae folded back tight against the suit’s helmet she let out a primal Andorian battle scream! Her hand swept by her belt pulling the grip from it’s place and triggering the stud. The memory metal unfolded swiftly, clinking and chinging into place with a snap.

Compared in size, the drone was a weight class or two up. That was hardly new to the Security officer. She was used to foes being bigger than she was. So she made up for it with speed and skill. The Chaka came around first hitting the Borg’s weapon arm. CLANG! Shoving it to the side. The forced plasma beam discharged and scored a wall. Zark ducked under the counter swing. As she did the reverse blade of the Chaka drew a line across the Borg’s thigh, trying to find an artery. The Borg swung down and she brought the Chaka up in a two handed parry. WANG! With a pivot she transferred the down swing of the Borg to the side and she stepped around it. Chaka coming up, under the ribs to bite deep and rip through flesh. A bark of laughter escaped her and the Borg brought that weapon arm back around in a crushing blow! The Andorian leaned back back back as if Limbo was her favorite game and the metal appendage glanced off her exo suit. The glancing blow sent her slamming to the floor. Damnit! A few more cm and he’d have missed her totally. The Borg stepped forward and brought the arm up in a headsman’s blow. Before it could descend Zark pulled back both legs and slammed both boots right into his leading knee. This had the dual effect of buckeling the knee and scooting Zark a few meters in the opposite direction.

The Borg crashed to the deck. Zark rolled to her feet and leaped, cat like and quick. The Chaka finding the throat of the Borg as he started to rise and cutting deep, all the way to the spine and the serrated blade scoring bone there. YANK! The spine was severed and the head sort of flopped to the side, hanging on by a flap of flesh, but Zark didn’t think he would be putting that back together any time soon.

Spinning she checked on the others. They had double teamed a drone with standard issue Starfleet combat blades. Considering, they’d done a good job. Stabbing didn’t do as much but they’d severed a number of tubes and such till one brave crewman had gone straight in through the eye. Stabbing the drone’s brain. Sadly the drone had thrust his weapon arm through that crewman’s chest and out his back. Both fell twitching on the deck.

Zark looked to the remaining crewman and nodded and turned. Through the dark 4 more red eye beams were sweeping their way. Four against two weren't the best odds.“Shelat!!”

Zark backed towards the other crewman and then her antennae shot up straight.“COVER!!” She dove to the side as Borg weapons fire came lancing out of the darkness. Hitting the deck she rolled over and behind a fallen Borg. Grunting she shoved him up a bit as make shift ‘cover’ and shook her head.

She looked to the Crewman who was hunkered down behind a console eyes wide.“I think we have um on the run!” A laugh as more weapons fire made her keep her head down. The Crewman looked at her like she was crazy.

Queing her coms in the helmet again her voice came out a bit amused over the transmission. “Sigma Team, Pinned down in the security center. We’ve reduced their numbers a bit, but still under heavy fire. These Borg are _not_ at all what you’d call social.”  A blast vaporized a hunk of the Borg she was using as cover and she got up, sprinting to the side and flinging herself bodily through the air to land behind another console. Green plasma blast following every step. Landing with a grunt she rolled and kept low.

“Oh yeah. We’ve pissed them off something _fierce!_ Assistance would be appreciated.”

[ William Robert O’Connell (http://fc01.deviantart.net/fs71/f/2014/219/f/7/oconnel_row_01_by_auctor_lucan-d7u6n2x.png) | Main Engineering | Deck 25 | USS Theurgy ]  ^{Attn: @alphawiz @Auctor Lucan  @fiendfall @FollowTomorrow @Steelphoenix}

The gorram drone took more than the remaining three bullets in the master chief’s six-shooter.  It was O’Connell’s fault for wasting his shots in its center of mass where that dingy black metal carapace served as armor.  Although those shots had messed it up some, it wasn’t enough until Kaylon Jeen finished it off.

"Somebody do me a favor and grab a mop!" the Trill quipped.

How the hell had Jeen’s phaser brought it down when O’Connell’s had stopped working on it?  Did the lieutenant prepare for the Borg by setting his phaser on random frequencies that no one else had tried yet?  Who knew?  And right now, who cared?

Right now it was time to survey the damage the drone had done to the power regulators.  Billy Bob let out a low whistle.  Five black slender tubes had come out of the drone’s left wrist and somehow in just a few seconds time they had made alterations to the Theurgy’s power regulators.  Sections of the machinery had been replaced with Borg tech: some kind of blocky black components with a green tinge to them.  He could only hope that the Borg hadn’t altered power regulators on the other two warp cores.  

“Well ain’t this sweeter than smeg,” Billy Bob grumbled.  “Somehow they done gummed up th’ power regulators!  Tarnation, Ah don’t even know if they the lights are still on in th’ bridge!  Looks lahk we got our work cut out fur us sir.  Somehow we need tuh bypass the power regulators until we kin—”

At that moment O’Connell and Jeen heard a disembodied voice over the ship’s communications system:

[ Engineering, I am transmitting schematics and a deployment grid.  One relay is already in place; these need to be replicated and released as quickly as possible.  No less than twenty but the more you can manage, the greater our advantage.  Advise the bridge once complete.  Kaeris out. ]

“Kaeris?  Who the hell is Kaeris?” Billy Bob asked out loud.  The master chief snapped his fingers.  “ Oh yes, Mister Kaeris, that young science ossifer from th’ Endeavour who don’t look old enough to shave yet.   He’s new.  Well sir, it looks lahk th’ folks on th’ bridge already got uh contingency plan.  Wish they woulda told me.” 

He marched over to Petty Officer Arex’s abandoned console to change the LCARS graphic to the information being sent from the primary bridge’s science station.  “Well  sir, it looks lahk uh good way to reroute power functions until we kin fix th’ sabatoge.”

He pressed a button on the console.  “Engineerin’ tuh bridge.  We’ve received yer schematics an’ will be setting up yer deployment grid on th’ double.  We’ll be getting th’ first relay up in two shakes of uh lambs tail.  O’Connell out.”

---

OOC:  I have no idea what we’re doing but I assume it’s technical.

[PO2 Kino Taer | Deck 16 | Right outside FAB ] @CanadianVet @Auctor Lucan @trevorvw

Kino did what Trent said, trusting in the senior officer for a path through that wouldn’t involve more dead bodies to clean up. Idly, she mused on how pre-Starfleet Kino Taer would have looked down on her now as being little more than a muzzled attack dog. All these skills and access to explosives and the Trill wasn’t using it to dismantle power.

Ah, but I get to still have fun with military-grade weapons.

The slender commander began speaking to the muscular petty officer, talking about bridge console authorization or something. Kino wasn’t paying attention to the talking as much as the body language of the Devoted grouped up in front of her. With half her team watching the rear and an active battle still going on, she was on too on edge to for a situation that seemed to require more words than actions at this point. Trent at least managed to get through all of his words before her team’s communications blew up.

[Lieutenant Zark, to Security Forces. Security Center breached! Drones present. High Priority Prisoner just poofed. Repeat: High priority prisoner is in the wind! Requesting assistance!"]

High priority prisoner… Oh fuck me sideways, that’s Nicander.

[Sel to security forces, lock down the main armories on each Vector, we cannot allow the prisoner to get his hands on anything stronger than a hand phaser if we can help it.]

[Akoni to all security, the Borg are looking for Nicander. We need to find him before they do.]

“Commander, the security situation just got a hell of a lot worse,” she called out as she switched back to her rifle and reset it to kill. “The center just got swarmed by the Borg and we have a very dangerous prisoner loose.”

The ship then shook hard, clearly taking on some severe damage from whatever the Borg just unleashed. Kino had to reach out to a wall to keep herself from falling. There was a scream from the group of Devoted when something exploded in a shower of sparks.

[This is Kingston and Akoni to all security teams, report in descending order of designation.]

She listened to the others report in with increasingly dire situations, readying to chime in with her own report when the next message came through.

[Kingston to all teams. Resort to graviton beam weaponry and alternative measures, fall back to defend security areas, over!]

“Epsilon-6 here. Copy that. We’re dealing with some Devoted that got loose. I have Commander Trent with me right now and we’ll be entering the fighter bay shortly.”

With her report sent, she turned her attention to Petty Officer McPherson.

“James McPherson, right? Look, as is very obvious, we’re in a bit of a shitstorm here. Your cousin was assigned to a team on Deck 19, last I saw. The Borg have adapted. So this?” The Trill held up her rifle. “It’s useless against them right now. He’s holed up somewhere on that deck, hoping not to get assimilated or killed before we see this fight through and look at you. You’ve killed at least four other Security officers getting here.”

He went pale at that, clearly taking in more than the explicit meaning of her words. “We-we’ll get Morali back and he can save her, save us all! Don’t you understand?”

“No, I don’t. I understand explosives, weapons, and several different ways to immobilize or kill anything that gets in my way. Commander Trent here has made his case. You have the choice of listening to him or dealing with me.”

A phaser shot from the other side of Trent lanced out into the crowd. The sudden silence was punctuated by the soft thump of a body hitting the ground. Apparently, one of the human members of her team fired his pistol.

“One of them drew his weapon, Taer. He’s down now.”

“Jim, I need to get to the fighter bay. Make your choice. Maybe you’ll get to see your cousin again. She was on the Resolve, right?”

The Bolian on her team chimed up with a warning about Borg coming up behind them. Kino looked behind her, then at Trent, and finally back at McPherson.

“Borg are on their way. You’re not going to make it to the Bridge.”

He nodded slowly. “We’ll fight them. Wenn Cinn better keep his promise to get our people back from the Versant.”

“I’m … sure he will. Blythe, use your overrides to get that door open. Commander, stay behind me if you will.”

Her rifle was returned to a secure enough position on its sling now and she pulled out her graviton weapon. It was smaller than she thought such a piece of technology would be, barely bigger than her Type 2 phaser pistol. McPherson was shouting his own orders to his group, fanning them out to cover both approaches in the corridor. He took up position next to Taer’s team, nodding grimly to her in recognition of the coming battle. The team member that moved to the door was the same human that fired on the Devoted, which earned him a few looks of scorn from the rest. They refrained from doing anything more than that, however, as the Borg were almost there.

Kino fired on the first pair that rounded the corner. The phasers from the rest were merely absorbed by the drone’s personal shielding, but the beam from her weapon sliced through them effortlessly. She grinned and took aim at a third one.

“Door’s open!” Blythe called out over the team’s channel.

“Go, go, go!” She responded, pushing Trent in the direction of the open door to the Flight Assault Bay. “Zota, take Commander Trent to where he needs to go. Rest of you, form up on the other side.”

She backed up slowly to bring up the rear, firing a pair of beams to take out the third drone before getting full behind the Devoted line. She paused to take stock of the situation. More were coming up the other direction, but there was something different. Though resistant at first, the drones started taking damage from the Devoted’s weapons.

Good. Maybe they stand a chance after all.

She walked through the door, making sure to close and lock it again after her. Maybe the Devoted would all die to the Borg. Maybe they wouldn’t. McPherson seemed a more reasonable sort to her. Whatever the result, though, Kino was now pretty sure they weren’t going to go anywhere far from here as the Borg were going to tie them up for a while. She turned around to meet with her team and noted that the officer that was with her had already vanished, taking the Bolian with him. Clearly, that man was in a rush to get somewhere.

[ Commander Carrigan Trent | Fighter Assault Bay | Deck 16 | USS Theurgy ] @patches

Every officer who was ever considered for a command slot would have received training in negotiation and diplomacy.  But it hardly meant that everyone did well at such endeavours.  And, to be frank, it was hardly Carrigan Trent's strong suit.  He was a tactical officer by initial training, and the way his career track had gone, he had not spent much time in positions to hone such skills.  He was someone who approached opposed situations as a tactical problem, and dealt with them methodically, with cold analysis and relying on intellect and logic.  Backed by a ruthless efficiency and ability to adapt his plan on the fly if so required. 

As such, he probably would never find himself on the edge of known space performing exploratory missions likely to make first contact with new species, or maintain relations with distant polities.  But on the Bridge of a starship engaged in security, tactical or emergency response duties?  That was where he belonged. 

And that meant his negotiation with the Devoted was not something he approached as diplomacy, but as an attempt to make them back down.  Their cult were as close to religious fanatics as he'd ever dealt with, and if they believed Morali and his knowledge of alternate timelines were of importance, then making mention of actual deity-like beings that had tangible effects on the galaxy at large was bound to be of some help...

And as it so happened, having a heavily armed security detail with him was also an asset.  Many believed Starfleet and the Federation should never even consider backing talk with the possibility of force, but truth of the matter is that diplomacy without a fist of some sort behind it is worthless.  Whether it be economic clout, being able to restrict access to science or technology, or simply being backed by a powerful fleet, diplomacy without something to back it was just empty words that may or may not function as intended. 

And this needed resolving, as the security situation ship-wide was deteriorating even further.  Nicander, the only high-value prisoner he could think of, was loose.  Security was being overrun.  Borg were coming up behind them. 

It was starting to look like a bloodbath would be the only way out...

Until it wasn't.  There was a single phaser blast involved, but the Devoted stood down.  Not only down, but fell in line with the Security team leader and took positions, just in time for the Borg to arrive.  And when he was hurried along, the Commander did not argue.  He could fight; he was even reasonably skilled at it.  But even when dealing with small arms or even his hands and feet, his greatest assets were good technique and dirty tricks; neither of whom would avail much to him against the Borg.  He fought his battles with his mind, with computers and plots, with several hundred thousand tons of starship as his weapon. 

With the hangar bay just ahead, Trent expected he would find a bird that had been downchecked, and that would be his way to get to Deck 01 in a hurry.  However, such was not to be...

---

OOC: Exeunt Trent to Injustice

---

[ Petty Officer Eliska Bremmer | Near Deuterium Storage | Deck 22 | USS Theurgy ] @Auctor Lucan @trevorvw

The alarms were blaring across the deck.  But they were not the klaxons of Red Alert or Intruder Alert.  But they were damage control alarms.  The weapons fire Theurgy had taken had disabled the fire suppression systems. And that temperatures near some of the deuterium feed lines are getting increasingly more dangerous.  And of course, there was debris in the way, and personnel trapped in various compartments and spaces, either by fire or by structural damage that made egress impossible. 

And of course, the various alarms from Security came through on the channel.  Of course, things could never ease up, could they?  Why could the reports not be of decks secured, of boarders being driven off?  That things were going well?  And as much as she enjoyed a good fight, there were higher priorities to deal with.  And a non-trivial part of the ship's deuterium supplies getting exposed to plasma fires could have some rather dire effects on the survival of the ship.  So, it meant she had to report in, and once more, the Petty Officer repeated herself, especially since a damage control party had yet to arrive.  "Akoni, Kingston, this is Bremmer with Delta-3.  We're free from Borg contact right now but we have a damage control situation near Deuterium Storage.  Reading multiple fires and trapped personnel.  Fire suppression is down, and there's a threat to the feed lines." 

Around her, her team was working frantically to make their way towards emergency shutoff valves.  Security exosuits had been initially designed for operations in high-threat environments, but they were eminently well-suited to non-combat usage such as search and rescue operations, or even damage control as it would happen.  And as the temperatures nearing the seat of the fires was rising fast, those exosuits would keep protecting long after they would increase into the lethal range. 

Lethal range.  The people who were trapped were not so protected, and odds are smoke might become an issue for them sooner rather than later.  Between her suit's sensors and her forearm PADD, she brought up a schematic of the deck that tracked the damage, the fires, and located personnel.  And she had an idea. 

"Lieutenant Akoni, Bremmer.  I don't think we can make it to the shutoff valves before the deuterium feed lines go up.  I need an override, sending you some specifics."  With a few hits to the controls, she sent the spaces where personnel were located that would need to be protected by atmospheric forcefields, where others should be erected to isolate as little of the deck as possible... and drawing a path towards an external airlock.  " And then I need airlock 22-17 opened."

Her plan was simple: vent the area out into space and put out the fires that way.  It was risky, for there might be people her suit's sensors may have missed, or whom the forcefields wouldn't fully protect, but it would be that or losing the ship.  Good thing that sort of thing was for officers to decide in the end.

[ Drauc T'Laus (https://uss-theurgy.com/w/index.php?title=Drauc_T%27Laus) | Cargo Bay 04 | Deck 08 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @Cosmos
[Show/Hide]As battlefields went, Drauc T'Laus was reminded about the Dominion War, only then, he'd fought alongside his brother. Not on his own.

The memory of the cargo bay had been suppressed, just to allow focus towards whatever might be found beyond the next smoke-filled intersection. For him, the loud noises of fighting, of disembodied warnings on the intercom, and the gradual destruction of the ship, it was all just an undercurrent for what his mind absorbed from the vicinity around him. Despite the plasma fires and the smoke, the exchange of weapons in the flagrant scents that hit him, it was the fears that were the loudest. Those panicked and the brave, he could find them without seeing them, for their thoughts imposed upon his own. His answer, it was to allay those fears and support the brave.

Therefore, he strode through the smoke, with his frayed robe following each minute movement of his, in search for the Borg. These unhealthy minds, all disconnected from their bodies, instead becoming one. Drauc did not fight the drones individually. He fought the collective gestalt that had come to inhabit the ship. They were the same to him. A perverted, cold fabrication, without a shred of what they once were. Puppets, animated by a terrible hive mind, all bent upon consummation of technology and the corruption of new flesh. In the Jem'Hadar, Drauc had found himself to respect their purpose and loyalty. The Borg, however, was just a virus, and he found no compunction in trying to be a cure.

When the one called Lieutenant Zark had requested assistance the first time, her voice heard over the combadge he'd been given, Drauc had stopped in the corridor, and turned his steps towards the Security Centre. He had seen the manner of guard placed upon this prisoner, and he could but assume him to be a priority. Moreover, the area was the node for coordinating all the security foces aboard, so if they lost it to the Borg, they might be cut off from each other entirely. While Drauc preferred to operate lone after he lost Kraun, he knew others didn't.

Upon arrival, the same officer - named Zark - had requested assistance a second time, and it served to show his instinct was right. With everyone preoccupied in their skirmishes, aiding others were difficult. When the sliding doors parted for him, he saw the backs of four Borg drones, all advancing against two security officers on the other side of the lobby. He was right in their sights, appearing behind them as he was, so he leapt towards his right, rolling over his shoulder, and kicked the legs of the closest drone sideways. It hurt, the thing made mostly of metal, but it toppled over like a mannequin. Drauc was already standing, his rifle raised towards the other drones.

Unfortunately, he then learned that the drones had adapted to the phaser rifle he carried - his bolts inneffective. The three that were standing turned in his direction, however, giving the two from security some respite. The closest one was so close that it attempted to assimilate Drauc instead of firing against him, two long strides carrying it towards his position. With the rifle useless, Drauc resorted to other means, and being Romulan helped him deliver enough force behind his attack. A straight kick, right into the centre mass of the metal figure. The drones did not bend their knees in order to keep a low centre of gravity, so Drauc managed to make it topple backwards. By instinct alone, Drauc again tried to fire with his rifle against the remaining two drones, and even as he did it, he was retreating, having no expectation of causing further damage.

Only then, for some reason that escaped him, it seemed like the personal force fields were once more failing to adapt to the rotating phase modulation. Drauc's three bolts skewered right through metal and pasty flesh, rupturing torso and skull. He was confident that the other two security guards had noticed it, and together with them, he set out to end the two fallen drones and the last one standing.

---

OOC: When the Versant now tore through the cube, the networked drones of that cube all suffered the same fate as the adaptive shield matrix, now making them vulnerable again.

[ Lt Simon Tovarek | Main Sickbay | Deck 11 | USS Theurgy ]
  @Lex Dalton @Arista @lisavw @FollowTomorrow

What did they need to do? It was a very fine question asked by Jovela as Simon looked up at the freshly installed equipment. It still had to be calibrated before it would work properly. Simon was eye to eye with the Borg and he slowly stepped backwards before he murmured "Closing the doors will only stop them for so long..." he glanced over to Jovela "Call for security."

"Take this, you Borg bastard!"

Was the voice of a Vulcan doctor as she threw and object to one of the drones. It certainly seemed to catch the attention of the drone as it now turned towards them. The object thrown however was but a simple glass beaker and it seemed to have done no damage as the drones marched towards the aggressor. They had to act quickly now as one drone remained at one of the consoles in the corridor as the two others made their way over to the Main Sickbay.

The crew safety was adamant to the officer and he tapped his combadge "Tovarek to any transporter room. I need you to lock onto my immediate surroundings and beam out ANY Borg lifesigns NOW!" he burled out as he realized too late how close one of the drones had come. He wanted to step back, yet the drone that had been targeted by T'Panu grabbed onto Simon's arm.

"Wha? Chort! Let me go suka!" he cursed, his Russian roots surfacing once more. Time seemed to move slower though as he could see the tentacles slip out of the Drone's arm they snaked closer to his neck. He had to move, now! He tried to move, yet his body reacted otherwise. It didn't move at all and just stiffened up in this ordeal. The eyes of the science officer widened. A sharp sting made him hiss as a dose of nanites was spread into his system.

He couldn't tell how much time had passed before his body reacted to the invasive procedure. His leg moving up and kicking the Borg back just a few steps. His hand covered the attacked flesh at his neck before he looked over his shoulder at Jovela. Perhaps it was fear or anger that glinted in his eyes. Yet just mere seconds later the energizing effects began to envelop the drones, the drones were not the sole target thought it seemed as the tingly feeling coursed through Simon. Did they really just target him as a Borg lifesign? Perhaps because of the nanites injected for assimilation?

It was too late to tap his badge and cancel out the procedure. Perhaps it was for the best, to not undergo the atrocity of feeling one's mind fall to the hive. To lose all he fought for and worked for. He simply kept looking at those gathered at the door that would lead to the main sickbay. Within the next second the corridor that had Borg drones and the Russian scientist was empty.

Lt Kaylon Jeen | Main Engineering |Deck 25 |USS Theurgy | Attn @Auctor Lucan @Doc M.

The drone had her.  Cir'Cie was seconds away from being assimilated.  This would be a tight shot to be sure.  Kaylon aimed and fired.  The drone didn't drop to the floor like he'd hoped, but he had knocked it off balance and it released its hold on her.  "Cir'Cie! Run!" he called.  She didn't waste any time analyzing the situation.  She took off like a shot out of McConnell's revolver.  As soon as she was clear, Kaylon fired at the drone again.  This time it did hit the deck with a metallic clatter.  Such a satisfying sound, he thought.  As Cir'Cie came over to them, she gave him a simple nod and said simply.  "Thank you, Lieutenant."  Kaylon couldn't help but smile and say "Anytime..but try not to let it happen again.  It was a lucky shot."

[ Engineering, I am transmitting schematics and a deployment grid.  One relay is already in place; these need to be replicated and released as quickly as possible.  No less than twenty but the more you can manage, the greater our advantage.  Advise the bridge once complete.  Kaeris out. ]

McConnell moved over to a nearby LCARS display, acknowledged the transmission and then turned back to Kaylon.

"Well  sir, it looks lahk uh good way to reroute power functions until we kin fix th' sabatoge."

Jeen nodded.  "Do it as best you can, Chief.  If we can get rid of these other drones, then I can give you a hand." he said, firing again at one of the two remaining drones.  It went down.  So far, they hadn't adapted to these phaser settings.  If ti continued to work, he'd be sure to inform Starfleet of this.  One day.  For now though, he was on a rogue starship and the fleet wouldn't listen to anything he had to say.

He fired again.  His beam, along with a phaser from a crewman across the room hit the last drone.  It too toppled, whether from one beam, or the other, or a combination of the two, he didn't know.  He'd half expected the drone to adapt, but it was all academic at this point.

"Computer!  Seal the doors to Engineering!" he called out.  "That should keep them out for a little while at least.  Now let's see to those relays.  What exactly is it we're deploying, Chief?"

[ Lt. Kai Akoni | Corridor | Deck 4 | USS Theurgy ] @Auctor Lucan @CanadianVet

Kai and Adam had just heard Everett on Delta team commit suicide. Kai had dealt with other people committing suicide in the past, especially during the war, but he’d never had someone under his command do it before. He closed his eyes for a couple of seconds and then shared a quick, but knowing glance with his acting deputy which had caused Kingston to give the orders to the security teams that Kai had been thinking about issuing himself.

“Kingston to all teams. Resort to graviton beam weaponry and alternative measures, fall back to defend security areas, over!” Kai nodded agreement at Kingston before they both heard shuffling outside the doors which caused them both to snap their heads to look at the door. Adam raised his Accipiter as Kai took two steps back as the drones pried their way into the room.

”Well shit…” Kai said to himself as he took aim at the drones in front of the two officers.



Akoni’s combadge shrilled to life with another urgent communique. 

[Akoni, Kingston, this is Bremmer with Delta-3.  We're free from Borg contact right now but we have a damage control situation near Deuterium Storage.  Reading multiple fires and trapped personnel.  Fire suppression is down, and there's a threat to the feed lines.]

Of course, because if it’s not one thing, it’s another…this damn ship! Kai thought to himself as he motioned towards the door for Kingston to take care of. Adam had heard the message too, so it was unspoken between the two as to what the plan is. 


”Come on Bremmer, I need an idea” Kai said to himself while looking at the schematics for that area of the ship. He hadn’t communicated to her or anyone else in particular, just talking out loud to himself. Something he hadn’t done since the war.

As if she was reading his mind, Bremmer chimed back in just as Kingston had opened up on the Borg drones entering the computer core.

[Lieutenant Akoni, Bremmer.  I don't think we can make it to the shutoff valves before the deuterium feed lines go up.  I need an override, sending you some specifics. And then I need airlock 22-17 opened.]

Genius and dangerous…I love it Kai thought to himself as he moved to his left.


The acting chief of security looked down at the console just a metre from where he had been standing and saw the plan Bremmer had drawn up on the fly.  Kai quickly came to the conclusion that he wouldn’t have time to get command authorization for this plan, so that’d be all on him.

What made it tough on Kai was the fact that there was intermittent internal sensors in that area, so he’d be relying on Bremmer’s quick assessment of the situation.

Kai punched some buttons on the console in front of him and put the atmospheric forcefields into place as he prepped the airlock to be opened.

I hope to hell that all the forcefields hold He thought as he finished double checking his work.

The large man sighed and slapped his combadge,

”Akoni to Bremmer, I’m all ready on my end. We’ll go on three okay? One…two…three…Opening airlock!” he said just as Kingston had finished putting down the last drone trying to get into the computer core.

Kai watched the progress on the display panel in front of him. He could see the forcefields holding while the remaining atmosphere was being vented into space and hopefully suffocating the fire at the same time.

He tapped his combadge again, ”Akoni to Bremmer, repo..” he trailed off as he saw one forcefield failing, and then another failed causing two sections to be forcefully vented.

Kai looked up at Kingston and made eye contact

”Fuck…”

[ Lieutenant Elro Kobol | Jefferies Tube access point | Deck 11 | Vector 02 | USS Theurgy ] @Juzzie

Even after completely removing himself from sickbay, Elro still wasn't able to temer the trembling in his hands, his ears continuously burning with the lingering resonance of the explosion he had been the cause of. The physical reminder of the carnage he had just inflicted was preventing the adrenaline in his bloodstream from settling, keeping his whole body permanently on edge. The image of the fire catching still ran through his head over and over again, watching the metallic bodies of the Borg surrender to the blaze as it engulfed them and the corridor behind them. He took a deep breath, trying to send the image away. He couldn’t help but dwell over the knowledge of how easy it would have been to have miscalculated the methane explosive potential in the gas, or how devastating the explosion would have been if it had caught a security detail trying to retake sickbay in the blast.

In a way, Elro felt sick to his stomach that he had applied his medical knowledge of xenobiology as an instrument of death. It was so, terribly, reckless of him to have made a move like that… It went against any course of action he had taken in the past; he was always the mellow, collected one. He’d never demonstrated such a panicked fury before… He’d been in threatening situations dozens of times, but he’d always left the violent parts to others…

He hadn’t had anyone else to rely on back in sickbay… The Security were keeping watch over his patients and they mightn’t have had the ingenuity to think of creating a methane explosion… He had to admit, that despite his reservations, what he had done had been the right choice. Borg didn’t differentiate between Security staff and Medical officers and their patients. He had no choice but to stop them, or he’d have swiftly been assimilated.

But despite that knowledge, he had still been agonising over the other potential options, wondering if there had been a way to have stopped the Borg without an explosion. Numerous possibilities had come to him in hindsight, releasing anesthetics into the air, attempting to sedate them, trying to repel them using radiation… But he knew, in truth, that his method had been the most likely to succeed, and therefore, the one that was least likely to end up with him and his patients becoming drones.

Yet that knowledge didn’t do much to calm his shattered nerves.

As long as even one Drone still existed on the ship, Elro didn’t imagine he would ever manage to stop his heart from trying to thump its way through his ribcage… Apparently he would need to update his personal file to include severe anxiety when faced with Borg… At least on the Endeavour he’d been able to busy himself with treating the myriad of casualties who’d been flooding his Sickbay. Unfortunately, he didn’t have the same distraction on the Theurgy to keep his mind from racing.

The patients he had evacuated from sickbay had mostly been stable before he had sent them into the tubes, but as expected, crawling through a dozen jefferies tubes had not been the most ideal of activities for their wounds. Some of them had reopened, some were too weak to keep going, and others were simply panicking that if the Borg pursued them, they wouldn’t be able to escape again… The patients and staff had made it about as far as they could have reasonably been expected to, and were sprawled across three decks inside one of the jefferies tube junctions, with three of the security guards who had been stationed in sickbay having stayed to cover each deck and support the nurses, whilst the final one had set off to try and find some support.

Elro had done the same.

He needed to get to main sickbay; it would be better guarded and might have enough power to facilitate a site to site transport. Though he darent imagine what sort of state it would be in, he’d received a message to get to deck eleven. And that was exactly where he was heading.

Elro however, found himself hesitant to push open the release on the hatch leading to the corridor, not through a lack of strength, but through the mire of sheer fear that he had to wade through. He knew that any step, any move, could be the difference between getting assimilated and surviving. He’d wanted to stay back in the jefferies tubes until the battle concluded, but he couldn’t mentally even entertain the idea. He was a Lieutenant, not a Cadet. He was expected to take some responsibility and face his fears…

That’s what being a Starfleet Officer was about.

As he pulled on the release handle as quick as he dared, his free hand tightened its grip upon the phaser he had been given by one of the security team. The device felt entirely uncomfortable in his hand, his fingers used to holding more delicate, precise instruments, as opposed to a weapon; even such a small one. The security officer had insisted however, even setting it to some sort of special modulation that ‘should’ stop a Borg before they adapt.

Elro supposed the weapon was welcome, since it might have been all that would stand between him and assimilation, but he hardly felt comfortable with it. He tried to move as quiet as a mouse when he stepped out of the hatch, yet his caution was needless. There was movement, but it was Starfleet personnel, the drumming of well-tended boots on the deck comforting his ears, his dark eyes unable to pick out any drones in the chaos. Seeing other crewmen moving around bolstered his resolve, allowing him to assume a brisk jog towards where he believed Sickbay to be located.

He still found the Theurgy to be disorientating, and in the chaos, with damaged corridors and a constant look behind his shoulder for Borg, it was only more difficult to navigate. But evidently his bewildered sense of direction was a boon, as he rounded another random corner and almost tripped over a sprawled crewman on the floor.

The Betazoid snapped to attention and raised his phaser in panic, but quickly withdrew when he saw a somewhat familiar face. Lieutenant Williams. And another crewman next to him pinned under what looked to be a fallen bulkhead.

Elro didn’t have the soul left for any attempt at a light-hearted comment, but instead crouched down and fetched his medical tricorder from his pocket, scanning the victim in the wreckage, who seemed to be dazed to the point that his ability to recognise anyone had failed. He had extreme injuries.

“We need to get this man to sickbay now…” Elro breathed, fumbling with the phaser once again. “We’re not going to be able to move this debris on our own, but we might be able to cut him out…” Elro paused, glancing gingerly down at the phaser, and then up and the debris. Then he turned to Lieutenant.

“Please tell me you can use a phaser better than I can?”

[ Lt. JG Jovela | Main Sickbay | Deck 11 | USS Theurgy ]
Attn: @Nolan @Auctor Lucan @lisavw

[Show/Hide]
Jovela slapped her combadge and cried out "Security to main Sick bay, we have Borg here, repeat we have Borg here!" She looked at the approaching drones and looked around for something to use as a weapon, she considered throwing her medical tricorder much like Tovarek had thrown something but realized it would do nothing.


Taking a breath she took a step forward and clapped her hands together dropping into a fighting stance, her heart was racing and she could feel the adrenaline waking her cells into a state of readiness. She embraced the feeling and grit her teeth, if these drones wanted to get into her sickbay they would have to do it over her dead body. Tovarek had called for all Borg life signs to be beamed out, it was a good idea and she smirked hoping it would work.


She glanced over at Tovarek and saw a drone reach out to grab him, as it did so she stepped forward and delivered an open palmed strike to the drones face. It felt like hitting a statue not a living creature, the sudden stop jarred her arm and the drone did not even move its biological eye to look at her. With a growing sense of horror she saw it deliver a dose of nanoprobes into the man using its hand mounded tubules.


"No! stop you soulless machine!" She cried at the drone, her mind flew with possible cures for early assimilation and she reached out to try and drag the man free of this bio mechanical monster. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up and she watched as the Bord and Tovarek were surrounded by a nimbus of light.
"Wait! wait!" She cried out and slapped her combadge so hard she felt the metal bite her breast.


"Jovea to transporter room, cancel the transports from sickbay, you have a Tovarek. Stop, Stop now for fuck sake!" She watched as the Borg drones and the Russian Scientist where transported out of sickbay, she stood for a moment her hands balled into fists and pushed down the emotions rushing through her.


"Calm, know your target, abandon fear" Drauc had taught her and she took hold of that with both hands, a steady sense of calm and anger filling her. With determined steps she went over to the medical instruments and took up a pair of surgical tools, holding them like knives. If the Borg returned to this sickbay she would take them apart one piece at a time, the oath was "Do no harm" but that was to sentient life forms not evil twisted mechanical creatures, she strode over to the sickbay doors and looked out down the hallway her dark eyes resolute.

[Lt. Rhys Williams|Corridor|Deck 11| USS Theurgy] attn: @TWilkins

Rhys looked at the medical tricorder and tried to decipher its meaning. Rhys had very little medical training, just standard first aid practice and that was it. He knew just enough, so that he would not end up killing the poor boy with eager but misguided attempts to help. Tom’s legs were clearly shattered and as the tricorder told him this he muttered under his breath. “No shit!”

“Lieutenant?” Tom’s voice sounded muffled far away as if his mouth was full of cotton wool.

“Its ok Tom, its ok.” Rhys tried to say as calmingly as possible. The tricorder was also indicating some kind of damage to the head. Rhys looked closer at the boy, and while he had a glazed expression he could see nothing wrong. He looked back at the screen and saw that the tricorder was recommending something to numb the pain a little. He looked through the medkit trying to identify the right hypospray.

He was so wrapped up in his task that he did not hear the footsteps approaching. They melted into the back ground noise of hundreds of other footsteps in the connecting corridors. Suddenly there was a phaser in his face, the other end of which was in the hands of an extremely spooked looking Doctor Kobol .

Rhys realised he probably did not look that great. He was covered in superficial burns and cuts from the explosion of the conduit. They were however, just that superficial, nothing compared to poor Tom. Rhys looked nervously at the phaser until it was lowered. Suddenly the Doctor was next to him examining the crewman. Rhys was more than happy and quite relieved to surrender the medical duty to the good Doctor.

He felt the phaser being pushed into his hands as Elro explained that Tom needed to be in sickbay, and they ought to cut him out with the phaser. “I was going to try find one of these.. but uh.” He nodded to Tom, “He did not want me to leave him.” He turned over the weapon in his hand, he had not fired one in a long time but he felt sure he still remembered what to do. He made a few adjustments to the phaser’s power and beam, before crouching down again and firing. This was going to be slow progress and there was always the fear that at any time,  the Borg could come upon them. “Well its been a while but it seems to be coming back to me.” Said Rhys as he slowly cut through the jagged metal taking care not to hit the crewman. He smiled a genuine but very tired smile at the Doctor. “Glad to see you.”

[ Petty Officer Eliska Bremmer | Near Deuterium Storage | Deck 22 | USS Theurgy ] @Auctor Lucan @trevorvw

"Everyone, brace for decompression!" Petty Officer Eliska Bremmer wasted very little time after giving her report to Akoni to pass on the word to her team, and hopefully the message would also get to the people who were trapped.  If the forcefields failed, they'd have to be ready to act fast in the fifteen to thirty seconds of consciousness most people could maintain in a vacuum if it came own to it.  But for her and her team, safely ensconced in exosuits, the real danger would come from being blown about when the atmosphere would be blown out of the ship. 

It was a common enough trope in bad holonovels for the heroes to hang on by their fingertips while air rushed about for minutes on end.  But in reality, the decompression would be hard and brutal, a brief hard buffet that no one could hope to withstand with main strength alone.  But exosuits made that irrelevant.  Around her, much like she was doing herself, her team was adopting strong, wide stances and panels and doors were being opened so everyone could get a solid handhold.  The suits' strength-enhancing features would come in handy, but not nearly so handy as the magnetized boots, and the ability to lock the joints in place so the armour itself would make a solid unit anchored between the bulkheads and the deck.

And it was not a waste of time, for Akoni was quick enough to give the decompression warning, and the airlock opened.  The red lights across the deck switched to blue, and the warbling of fire and damage control alarms fell away as atmosphere, flames, plasma and smoke, along with water vapour and light, loose debris rushed down the corridors towards airlock 22-17 to be ejected out into space.  Now, gauging actual temperature in a vacuum was difficult, but the sheer volume of atmosphere that rushed out served well enough as a cooling system, lowering the temperature of areas that had been smoldering, or even actively burning, back do to at least safe enough levels. 

Within her suit, Bremmer could feel the ship silently thrumming, and the vibration of debris that had been unsettled by the emergency decompression rang through her boots and her hands.  Freeing herself from her braced position, she looked to her team.  Everyone looked all right, but one of them looked a little pale.  As a rule, being in vacuum within the hull of a starship was bad news, and they weren't out of the woods yet... 

The call from Akoni to report on the situation started coming in, and she would have answered when she noticed a bit of bulging out of a bulkhead near her, one of which that was supposed to be protected by a forcefield for there were people behind.  And next thing she knew, she was hammered against the opposite wall as it gave out. 

Another rush of atmosphere happened, and that one was not one anybody was prepared for.

When her vision cleared from the impact, she could see a single uniformed figure on the deck.  It was a young man, an engineer by the looks of him, and his eyes and face were bulging in horror as his mouth worked soundlessly, much like a fish out of water, to breathe.  But such could not happen, especially as the breath had been stolen from his lungs.  And of her team, one of its members was writhing on the deck even as another pounced upon her and ripped open her emergency supply pouch to apply a sealant about a piece of internal framing that had penetrated her abdomen. 

From her side, Bremmer rushed to the poor bastard who was out in vacuum without a suit and scooped him up into her arms and ran for the end of the corridor, where she could see the shimmer of a forcefield behind which there was an environment that could support life.   "Akoni, Bremmer, need atmo!  Got casualties!  Stanbra is down and I got one engineer who's sucking vacuum."

But she was only halfway there when that forcefield failed too and another rush of air knocked her down and nearly made her lose her grip on the casualty she was trying to help...  not that she had noticed a piece of loose debris that was driven by the explosive movement of atmosphere had struck him in this second uncontrolled decompression and struck him in the head with lethal, and messy results.  "One more forcefield gave out. Need pressure fast before that guy..."  She turned her head to look at him, but the piece of metal that was wedged into his collarbone and skull left very little room for error as to his status, as did his one remaining eye, flat and lifeless.  "Disregard about the engineer.  Debris got him.  FUCK!"

For a moment, she remained silent as she took a few deep breaths, setting down the deceased engineer whose blood and brains now stained her exosuit.  Akoni still needed a report. "But good news is, fires are out and I don't think there's any chance of flare ups when we have air again." 

Not that she sounded too happy; it wasn't the first time someone literally died in her arms, and she was realistic enough to know it probably wouldn't be the last.  But she knew it had been her plan that killed him... and she could live with that.  Particularly when the alternative would have been the ship's deuterium supply explosively combusting.

[ William Robert O’Connell (http://fc01.deviantart.net/fs71/f/2014/219/f/7/oconnel_row_01_by_auctor_lucan-d7u6n2x.png) | Main Engineering | Deck 25 | USS Theurgy ]  ^{Attn: @Auctor Lucan  @Absinthe @fiendfall @alphawiz]}

“Now let's see to those relays.  What exactly is it we're deploying, Chief?"

“Well sir, ez yew kin see with th’ power regulators ur all smegged up, so’s we’s gotta reroute power functions through these relays in order tuh pick up th’ slack,” O’Connell replied.  “Ah reckon we can do so at here, here, an’ here,” he added as he pointed at various parts of the graphics display. “We kin git uh better look at th’ the master systems display table (http://memory-alpha.wikia.com/wiki/Master_systems_display_table).  Hopefully it’ll git our power systems tuh near but not plumb.  Tarnation!  We’ve got systems out all over th’ ship!  But let’s concentrate on rerouting our power functions.  Hopefully, th’ Borg hasn’t got tuh th’ power regulators on deck six yet.”  He tapped his combadge.  “O’Connell tuh Manfredi, the Borg have gummed up our power regulators, how are things on your end?”

The sound of gunfire could be heard in response.  “What was that Master Chief?” the voice of Chief Petty Officer Lavar Manfredi (https://uss-theurgy.com/w/index.php?title=Engineering_NPCs#Chief_Petty_Officer_Lavar_Manfredi) shouted over the din.  “What was that?  I didn’t copy!”

“Never you mind Chief; Ah kin see thet yore busy,” O’Connell retorted dryly.  He then emptied the spent cartridges in his revolver and fetched fresh ones out of a pouch attached to the belt of his webgear.  “Thet reminds, Ah say thet reminds me sir,” he commented as he glanced over at Kaylon before turning to address the Bolian petty officer who’s station he had commandeered.  “Mister Arex, go intuh mah office an’ fetch me mah shotgun.  It’s the thing with thuh wooden buttstock an’ th’ twin metal tubes.  Shaped kinda lahk uh mark three phaser.  It’s on th' table, mah desk that is.  Yuh cain’t miss it.  An’ don’t fergit tuh bring along th’ box uh shells in case Ah gotta reload.”

[ Lt. Cmdr Hathev | Upper Shuttle Bay | Deck 11 | Vector 01 | USS Theurgy ]

Hathev's choice of cover had been sub-optimal, selected under pressure, and she took the first opportunity she was afforded to reconsider her position. The doors to the bay were tantalisingly close, but unfortunately the route there was obstructed by multiple Borg drones. Chances of survival were minimal; she discarded the option and looked elsewhere.

The safest place would be beside the ship currently firing on the Borg. But crossing the bay would put her directly in the line of that fire, and she was loathe to trust the amplified voice that assured her 'I won't shoot you, okay?'

Her choice was made for her, however, when a nearby drone began to lurch in her direction, others following suit. They had been distracted by the blaster fire for only so long, and her luck had finally run out. Unarmed as she was, she would have little hope of holding them off herself. Of her options, trusting the pilot was regrettably the best choice.

She could only afford moments to wait; the first sign of a lull in the blaster fire, she moved swiftly out from cover and towards the ship, skirting around the mass of drones and struggling Bellerophon crew. There was nothing that could be done for them, and she had little interest in martyrdom. She put them from her mind, and continued on her way, moving briskly and with purpose even amidst the chaos. The drones after her were quickly left behind; she glanced back only once, in time to see one fall to the fire overhead. Several bolts flew past altogether too close for comfort, but it seemed the pilot of the ship had been telling the truth. For now at least

Remarkably, she made it to the other side of the shuttle bay unscathed; but no sooner had she arrived as the Theurgy took a series of shuddering blows, sending her to the floor with a crack as her skull hit the deck. Pain stabbed behind her eyelids; ears ringing, she blinked quickly to clear the haze from her vision, trying to take stock of her injuries. She'd landed awkwardly on one arm, and her neck had snapped back sharply in the fall, but it was her head that had took the brunt of the damage. Nothing serious; a problem for later.

A more pressing problem was the advancing Borg, which no longer seemed affected by the incoming phaser fire. But apparently the pilot of the ship was a madman who considered thrusters to be a viable weapon; Hathev had barely levered herself up when the shout came to hit the deck, and she was more than happy to oblige.

Mad though the pilot may be, she had to concede the efficacy of their tactics. The remaining drones were burned alive in a blaze that lasted mere seconds, leaving only charred remains behind. The ship performed an acrobatic manoeuvre before coming down to land at a safe distance from the surviving crew in the bay.

Hathev rose with considerably less grace than was accustomed, turning to take stock of the survivors. There were perhaps thirteen of them, at least two seriously injured. She was almost surprised it wasn't more. A cursory check of the uniforms present suggested she was the highest ranking officer; command had never been her strong suit, but needs must.

She directed the lone medical officer to the wounded, but managed little else before the airlock of the ship behind her hissed open, and she turned to see emerge a red-suited figure, armed and poised for action.

'Everyone okay?' the figure called, scanning the area.

'We have multiple requiring medical attention,' Hathev responded, hating the words even as she spoke them. 'How far is the nearest sickbay?'

Escape from this ship had been proven to be impossible; for better or worse, their fates were aligned with that of the Theurgy.

[ Dr T'Panu | Main Sickbay | Deck 11 | USS Theurgy ]

T'Panu watched as the beaker she threw hit the back of the Borg's head and fall pathetically to the floor. Her only defense and it was the most pathetic attack she's ever tried to make.

"Tovarek to any transporter room. I need you to lock onto my immediate surroundings and beam out ANY Borg lifesigns NOW!" Tovarek yelled. T'Panu was excited that soon the Borg would be gone! Out of their sickbay so they could get back to doing what they did best: treating their patients.

But just fast as she was excited, she realized what happened. Tovarek was actually hit by the Borg, injected by their nanites. T'Panu felt a surge of helplessness, followed by anger. How dare they think they can take one of us!

Jovela tried to stop the transporter from taking him, but it was of no use. What else was there to do? What could they do?? The Borg got him, and what could they do to stop them anyways??

T'Panu felt a wave of rage pass through her body. She felt strength like she had never felt before; but on top of that, she felt unstable. She wanted to scream, fight, hide. All at the same time. She was brought back to their last encounter, and hers before that. She was trapped in her mind, going back and forth over everything that she had experienced in the past.

She was transported back in time to the USS Ahwahnee. She watched as sparks were flying all around her, due to the onslaught of the Borg attack on their ship. The Borg had hit them hard, and they fought them with everything they had. Which to the Borg, was like a fly fighting a human. They were getting their asses kicked no matter what they did. Phasers? Useless. Torpedoes? Double useless. She ran past her comrade Lieutenant Terev. She tried to save him as he sat on the floor of the corridor, leaning against the wall. She watched as the life ran out of the Tellarite, and felt her hope draining with him. His lifesigns were officially zero as she checked for a pulse, to find nothing.

She ran as fast as she could back to sickbay. Enroute, she saw Zeto, who was head of security. He was clutching his side, the blood quickly draining from his wounds. "Zeto! I see you're injured! Can you stand?" He nodded, and she helped him limp his way back to a biobed.

She was transported back to present day. She felt the rage surging through her veins. There were no Borg in their sickbay, and there was no Tovarek either. She felt both weak and powerful. Her anger was fuelled by her past experiences that kept clawing at her state of mind. She stormed around sickbay, unsure of where she even was anymore. She grabbed a medical tricorder, half alert to what she was doing, and threw it as hard as she could against the wall. It shattered into pieces, the screen quickly losing power and dying. She looked at the beakers and equipment on the counter, as she grabbed the PADD and threw it against them all. Everything broke, sending shards of glass and pieces of plastic flying all around her.

Back aboard the Ahwahnee, Zeto was in the biobed. She was examining him with her tricorder, stopping his bleeding, preparing to infuse fluids to stabilize his blood pressure and pulse. "You lost a lot of blood, but I'm going to do my best to help you. Here's something for the pain." She injected him with an analgesic mixture. Quite strong, to make sure he felt nothing. A few minutes later, as she was treating him, his eyes began to flicker. His hypovolemic state was getting too difficult to treat quickly enough to stabilize him. He was tachycardic, hypotensive and not alert.

Finally her mind, despite its traumatized state, stopped tormenting her with the memories of the past.

"Stay with me, Zeto!" T'Panu yelled at the empty biobed. It was too late. She knew then, as much as she knew now, that he was gone. Just like how Tovarek left sickbay. She was helpless, aside from destroying sickbay as everyone left in sickbay, including the patients who were alert, were left staring at her, speechless.

[ Lt. Kai Akoni | Deck 04 | USS Theurgy ] @Auctor Lucan @CanadianVet

Kai had just seen the forcefields failing from his rapid decompression of Deck 22 to try and mitigate the damage from the fires near the deuterium storage. Also this would hopefully stop the deuterium storage from converting the ship into trillions of pieces. He immediately felt like shit when he saw the forcefields fail, however the feeling didn’t last long when he got the call from Bremmer.

[Akoni, Bremmer, need atmo! Got casualties! Stanbra is down and I got one engineer who’s sucking vacuum.] and then as Kai’s fingers flew across the console he got more information. [One more forcefield gave out. Need pressure fast before that guy…Disregard about the engineer. Debris got him. FUCK!].

Just as the communique from Bremmer had concluded, the outer airlock confirmed as sealed on the console, Kai started re-pressurizing Deck 22.

[But good news is, fires are out and I don’t think there’s any chance of flare ups when we have air again.] Bremmer had finally reported some good news.



Kai sighed, ”Bremmer, re-pressurization is in progress. Should have a full atmosphere in 20 seconds. Get Stanbra medical attention then resume your duties. Akoni out”. Kai knew he didn’t have to tell Bremmer what to do, she seemed experienced enough to know, but it made him feel a little more in control of an relatively uncontrollable situation.

Kai then heard a call for Security to report to Main Sickbay because they had Borg there. Kai knew he was supposed to have security personnel on Deck 11, however they hadn’t reported in. Hopefully they weren’t assimilated, but Kai knew they had to secure sickbay. 

Help the helpers, he thought to himself as he looked over at Kingston.

”I’m headed down there, you hold down the fort here for now” he said to Kingston as he headed for the door. He slapped his combadge, ”Akoni to Sickbay, I’m on my way”

Kai made his way out of the computer core and headed for the Jeffries tube access to make his way down to Deck 11. As almost an afterthought, he called to Kingston.

”Akoni to Kingston, keep me updated on the status of the intruders”

---

[ Annika Van den Berg | Sickbay | Deck 11 | Ship of the damned aka USS Theurgy ] @Nolan @Auctor Lucan @lisavw @Lex Dalton

Annika had watched as the Vulcan doctor threw a glass beaker at a Borg, hitting the drone, but harmlessly shattering on impact and the shards of glass falling to the deck plating. However, it seemed to catch the attention of the done. They started to advance towards the doctors. Annika felt a wave of fear and panic come over her as she stared. Her eyes darted around the room looking for something, anything, to try and defend these people. She found nothing immediately.

”Tovarek to any transporter room. I need you to lock onto my immediate surrounds and beam out ANY Borg life signs NOW!” the one doctor was able to say just as a drone grabbed onto his arm. The drone extended assimilation tubules towards the neck of the doctor as Annika was paralyzed with fear.

Annika had no idea what to do now, as the transporter room must not have been able to distinguish between the poor man about to be assimilated and the Borg drone who was intent on doing the assimilation as they both had dematerialized and disappeared from sight. After there were no more Borg present in sickbay, Annika felt like she had time to breathe finally. 



She was mad at herself for freezing like a little bitch, instead of doing something to help the people there. Especially the poor man who was transported away with the drone.  She could have done something to help him. She not only could have done something, she felt like she should have done something. She hoped that he would be alright.

Annika’s pity party was interrupted by the Vulcan, T’something throwing a tricorder against the bulkhead which caused it to break into pieces and fall to the floor. The angry Vulcan then threw a PADD against some beakers which caused them all to break and send debris flying around next to her.

”Stay with me, Zeto!” she then yelled at an empty biobed. Annika looked around the sickbay to see if this was normal for the Vulcan or if this was out of the ordinary. The shocked and staring expressions on everyone else’s faces told her all she needed to know.

She walked over to the crazy doctor and put her hand on the doctor’s right shoulder.

”Uh..maybe you should go sit down before you wreck anything else.” as the Vulcan nodded back to Annika in agreement and made her way to a chair to sit.

Annika looked around the room, unsure of what to do or say.

”I’m not a doctor, but can I do anything?” she offered in hopes that she would feel useful.

[ Lt. JG Adam Kingston (https://orig00.deviantart.net/1cf3/f/2018/249/c/8/adam_kningston_by_auctor_lucan-dcm5pot.png) | Corridor | Deck 04 | USS Theurgy ]
^{Attn: @trevorvw}
[Show/Hide]Kai Akoni motioned towards the door, implying to Kingston to take care of the drones that tried to enter the computer core. Adam had heard the message from Bremmer too, so it was indeed an unspoken accord between the two when Kingston let Akoni handle the situation for Bremmer's team.

"Not today, tin-heads," Adam said quietly in his hoarse voice, and squeezed the trigger of his allotted Accipiter. The tungsten slugs tore into the first one, making his flesh and metal thorax collapse and the head topple forward from the rapid impacts. The second one's personal forcefield lasted longer, managing to slow down Adam's bursts to the degree that the rounds didn't get as deep into the drone armour. Then, the forcefield collapsed from the onslaught of a fifth burst, and the metal man was shredded and cut in half. The third drone through the door... it's forcefield barely let the tungsten rounds injure it - the slugs clattering without effect against the chest and abdomen. Cursing and baring his teeth, Adam switched to auto-fire, but that merely resulted in his shots raining against the deck at 25 rounds per second.

"Piss off, you manky buggers," he murmured, and switched the setting to the warp concussion mode. It might only be used with the single shot firing setting, but Adam didn't argue with the results. The concussive blast made the drone slam into the doorframe that it had just passed through, causing sparks to ignite along its spine and neck. The next shot hit the next drone in line, a female one who had yet to pass through the door, and it sent her straight into the bulkhead of the corridor. Meanwhile, Kai was finishing up the situation Bremmer faced, when there came a call from sickbay. He heard the order to guard the computer core, and he nodded while he accompanied the large man from the Endeavour into the corridor.

"Good hunting, sir," he wheezed, his browridge low over his eyes while looking at the female drone that tried to pick herself up from the deck, switching to the phased tetryon beam setting on his weapon. "I'll keep you posted."

He used the tetryon setting to try and disable that personal forcefield, and then switched back to the standard railgun mode, finally able to tear the drone apart with two bursts to the head and torso. Instinct, more than any peripheral vision, made him turn around...

...just in time to see the drone with the broken back try to reach his ankle. In the nick of time, Adam stepped away - a cold shiver running up his spine while he finished off the prone figure. He cursed his carelessness through the process.

[ Ens. Cir'Cie (https://uss-theurgy.com/w/index.php?title=Cir%27Cie) | Main Engineering | Deck 25 | USS Theurgy ]
^{Attn: @alphawiz @Doc M.}
[Show/Hide]When Cir'Cie thanked Kaylon Jeen, her voice was strained, and she rubbed her neck with her hand - an unnecessary but instinctual gesture, as if she somehow could diagnose herself with her palm. Lieutenant Jeen might have called it a lucky shot, the one who had saved her from assimilation, but there was no time to disprove the notion that the concept of luck was illogical.

There were still Borg present in engineering, so Cir'Cie calmly walked up to the phaser she had dropped and picked it up, lending her fire to that of Jeen's, while Chief O'Connell spoke with the bridge about these relays. While their phasers momentarily didn't pierce the personal forcefields of the drones, forcing them to fall back and attempt further remodulation of the phase variance, the Borg became vulnerable again - just when O'Connell reached an available console. Then, it was a quick process to finish off the remaining drones that had managed to get inside. Kaylon Jeen made the computer seal off Engineering at that point, and Cir'Cie lowered her phaser, not even winded by the ordeal.

After she had holstered her phaser by her hip, Cir'Cie heard O'Connell saying that they could get a better understanding of the current situation at the MSD table, and since she wasn't far from it, she serenely set her hands to work on getting the information available on the relays. "Incorrect. The power issues aside, the replication patterns for these relays that Mr. Kaeris has asked to to deploy... they appear to cause subspace interference, specifically meant to disrupt the connection between the drones and the Borg cube. Those on the bridge already have coordinates available for the relays, so as long as we have power for the replication and transport, we just need to activate the sequence, and cut off the drones from the cube."

Cir'Cie looked up from the MSD table at the Trill and the Human, the idle thought of they expecting her to only know Botany after graduating from the Academy coming to her. Perhaps Jeen might give her the benefit of the doubt, but she had little hope for the bigot Chief. "What are you waiting for? Harness the required power from available systems and activate the replication and transportation sequence. The coordinates have been prepared, and Mister Song on the bridge is waiting."

[ Sera vers Aldnoah (https://uss-theurgy.com/w/index.php?title=Sera_vers_Aldnoah) | Upper Shuttle Bay | Deck 11 | Vector 01 | USS Theurgy ] 
^{Attn: @fiendfall} 
[Show/Hide]While the Vulcan spoke up, indicating that she was the highest ranking Starfleeter among the bunch, Sera shrugged with one shoulder and turned her visor towards the legless Borg drone that was crawling towards them.

"Burn me, I have never been to any sickbay on this blasted ship," she said through the microphone in her helmet and raised her disruptor's muzzle towards the persistent drone. She fired twice, expecting the forcefield they had to stop the blasts, but for some reason, her shots disintegrated the head and neck of the thing, and it stopped moving. "You may want to ask someone with a uniform."

Before anything further could be said between her and the group of survivors, there was a shimmer of aquamarine light next to one of the shuttles, and Sera raised her weapon towards it, expecting it to be another drone arriving. The blackness of the torso and legs suggested it... but what stayed her finger was the sight of two blue antennae over long white hair. Sera's eyes widened. While the woman didn't wear one of those drab Starfleet uniforms, she knew this Andorian. "zh'Wann?" she asked, eyebrows raised. It was the leader of the away team to the Coreless Moon. But how..? "Blast me... last I saw you, you were just a pattern in my ship's transporter buffer. You were already dead before that, a bloody hole in your side, and then the Savi bug-ship destroyed that buffer."

The Andorian, who carried some kind of metal sphere in her hand, along with a strange datapad, turned to look at Sera and the survivors. There was a pause, and perhaps the woman couldn't credit the fact that she was back on the Theurgy. "Vers Aldnoah.... It would seem the Savi collected me before that. I suspect I wasn't dead for long, but they never told me how they resuscitated me... only why. Who are these people?"

"We're from the Bellerophon!" one of the men cried out, even though he wasn't the highest ranking officer present. "We need to get off this ship. Open the bay doors!"

Ida frowned while she took in the situation, and Sera wanted those doors opened as well. The Andorian spoke first, however, and sensing the temper of the group, she drew her black sidearm - something definitely not of Starfleet design. "The Borg are on the way, and we're about to blow up their shortcut into Federation space. Any shuttles will be caught in the blast, so I suggest you step aside, and wait for a better time. By Lor'Vela, I have neither time nor patience for any moronic notions about heading out there. Understood?"

Sera cursed under her breath, debating if she should shoot the woman. She only had to raise her disruptor and...

...and the Andorian was looking her in the eye - eyes unblinking. "Try it, yellow-eyes. I should warn you, however. This weapon has no stun setting."

"Neither have mine..." she said tightly, yet suddenly, Sera wasn't so sure she was quick enough. She'd seen that Andorian in a firefight, and her odds of shooting the Andorian first weren't good. Oh, Zy, why didn't we leave earlier, when we had the chance? Curling her lip, she powered down her disruptor, and in a show of good faith, she tossed it to the Andorian's feet. "Burn you, I'll be a good girl."

For now.

"Then move along to the back of the bay, all of you," said the Deputy of the Theurgy, and raised her chin. "zh'Wann to Sickbay, we need a triage team here in the upper bay. Send security as well, since there seem to be officers from the Bellerophon aboard."

Sera did as she was asked, watching zh'Wann pick up the disruptor and addressing the Vulcan from before. "I know it may be hard to believe, but I advise you all cooperate, and hear out the captain. She will come along shortly, and tell you what Admiral Sankolov hasn't. Now, however, you need to clear this deck. Time is short."

[ William Robert O’Connell (http://fc01.deviantart.net/fs71/f/2014/219/f/7/oconnel_row_01_by_auctor_lucan-d7u6n2x.png) | Main Engineering | Deck 25 | USS Theurgy ]  ^{Attn:  @Absinthe  @alphawiz  @Auctor Lucan  @fiendfall  @FollowTomorrow} 

When O’Connell and Jeen reached the master systems diagnostics table he was disappointed to see that Miz Cir’Ce was still there.  That woman was harder to get rid of than Ferengi in a bank.  Unfortunately, as the only enlisted department head, he couldn’t exactly order her out, all he could do was ‘advise’ and ‘encourage’ the young officer to try and ignore her.

“Alright, Mister Kaeris wants us to relay th' power...” Billy Bob grumbled. 

"Incorrect," Cir'Ce interrupted.  "The power issues aside, the replication patterns for these relays that Mr. Kaeris has asked to to deploy... they appear to cause subspace interference, specifically meant to disrupt the connection between the drones and the Borg cube. Those on the bridge already have coordinates available for the relays, so as long as we have power for the replication and transport, we just need to activate the sequence, and cut off the drones from the cube."

The master chief paused, before looking at the readout on the master diagnostics table.  Just a glance made it obvious that rather than trying to bypass the power regulators, Kearis was indeed trying to rip subspace a new one.  No wonder Kaylon had asked for clarification.  The Cayuga’s chief engineer must have thought O’Connell was as crazy as popcorn on a hot stove.  Billy Bob had screwed up.  His cheeks reddening, O’Connell coughed twice before gracefully admitting defeat.  “My apologies ma’am; apparently we do need uh scientist down here after all.”

If O’Connell was expecting a smile from a Vulcan, he was very much disappointed.  The greenblooded scientist was relishing the opportunity to order the acting chief engineer around.  "What are you waiting for? Harness the required power from available systems and activate the replication and transportation sequence. The coordinates have been prepared, and Mister Song on the bridge is waiting."

There was nothing for it but to let the victor enjoy the spoils.  “Yes ma’am,” O’Connell nodded before launching into his chief voice.  “All right you heard her, set up them relays and inform Suq that we may need to channel power through his deflector dish!  Come on, people!  Make it happen!”

“Master Chief?” Petty Officer Arex asked as he walked up to the acting chief engineer with Billy’s shotgun.  “What do I do with this?”

It was then that Billy Bob let him know that feces rolls downhill.  “What in blazes are yew doin’ with mah shotgun Arex?” he roared.  “Put it back in mah officer raight now!  Fuck’s wrong with yew?”

[ Dr Amelya Rez | Main Sickbay | Deck 11 | USS Theurgy ]
  @Lex Dalton @lisavw @trevorvw

The chaos in Sickbay was increasing as patients were being beamed in through site to site transports when possible, yet a lot of patients started to come in through the main entrance. The main entrance that had been cleared by Tovarek and while Amelya had not been present to see the disappearance and end of the scientist she was grateful that the way was cleared for the injured. What worried her most though was the fact that the newest Vulcan addition to their medical component seemed to have lost it. Rez walked up to the Vulcan and looked into her eyes. A patient had seemed to have placed her down on a chair and as she asked if she could be put to use, Amelya looked her over.

"If you want to make yourself useful, please take a PADD and try and get the names and injuries of those coming in. I'll give us a better view on who's here and who's still unaccountable along with the sort of injuries we need to tend to first." she said with a calm voice and a smile before she looked back at T'Panu "Doctor, are you okay? Do you need to head out of here to meditate?" As she awaited the answer of the Vulcan and eventually nodded with some concern to her reply, she called out to the head nurse.

"Jovela! I need you back in here. Help with the triage and tend to those who need pain medication or urgent medical care. Call out if you need a doctor and pass the word on to the nurses." she said with clear voice as she sought to bring some order back to her Sickbay. The place was quickly getting crowded with patients and staff as Amelya tended to a couple of critical patients. She followed up on their parameters and gave her orders to the medical staff so she could move on where else she was needed. Unaware of the events happening outside the hull.

She did wonder how Nicander would have reacted to this situation, if he were uninfested that was. He'd probably kill them all as this was part of the endgame for the parasites she imagined. She shook the thoughts about the former CMO out of her head as she continued to work further on the patients and task at hand. There was no point to linger on the alternative as the present was filled with people who needed medical care.

Lt Kaylon Jeen|Main Engineering|USS Theurgy|Attn:  @Doc M. @Auctor Lucan

"What in blazes are yew doin' with mah shotgun Arex?  Put it back in mah officer raight now!  Fuck's wrong with yew?"

Kaylon looked at O'Connell with confused shock.   He distinctly remembered the Chief telling Arex to bring him the shotgun.  Something wasn't right, and Arex certainly didn't deserve to be dressed down for following orders.  "Chief, didn't you ask for that to be brought to you?  I'm pretty certain I heard you ask for it."he asked, a note of command sternness creeping into his voice.  It wasn't enough to sound as if he was dressing down the Master Chief in front of his men, but enough to make the tone of warning clear.  Hopefully it would be enough to snap the enlisted man out of whatever was going on with him.  "I don't know what's going on here, Chief, and I certainly don't want to step on your toes since you're technically still in command down here, but if I were you, I'd pull myself together.  Otherwise, I may have to start pulling rank." he warned, his voice dropping almost to a whisper.  Kaylon was sure that Cir'Cie probably heard it with her Vulcan ears, but not the other people in Engineering.

He liked O'Connell.  The man was direct, and a bit rough around the edges, but he'd also felt the crises they'd faced aboard the Cayuga had helped develop a bond between them...at least from his perspective.

Reprimand delivered, he turned his attention back to the master display.   If Chief O'Connell wanted to respond, he could, if not, that was fine too, so long as he heeded Kaylon's warning.  "If those relays, or whatever they are work as Cir'Cie says, and if I understood her correctly, then any drones that come aboard will be cut off from he collective, and it will be as if we cut off the serpent's head."  He looked up at Cir'Cie.  "Is my understanding correct, Ensign?"

[ Dr T'Panu | Main Sickbay | Deck 11 | USS Theurgy ]
@trevorvw @Nolan @Lex Dalton

"I'm not a doctor, but can I do anything?" Annika asked quizzically. The look she gave T'Panu was one of both concern, and...T'Panu couldn't quite place her finger on it. Fear? Shock? All of the above?? T'Panu snapped out of her momentary psychosis, and looked around the room. She noticed how everyone was staring at her. They were staring like she was a crazy person. And she realized, in that moment, she was.

She looked down at the biobed again, half embarrassed, half confused. What just happened??? She realized she was reliving the past, having it come back to haunt her after all these years. She had worked so hard to suppress her emotions, to escape it; but all she had accomplished was to bury it, telling herself it was over. It came back to bite her like an osmotic eel on a wound. Gross, T'Panu thought.

"Doctor, are you okay? Do you need to head out of here to meditate?" Dr Rez asked her.

Patients began entering Sickbay. They came from the transporter, and walked in through the main entrance. Dr Rez asked Annika to start triaging patients. T'Panu watched as patients were helping each other in, supporting each other's injuries. Some were able to walk in under their own control, which was a great sign.

She hoped there weren't many casualties, and realized she needed to get it together. Their patients needed her, the medical staff needed her, and she wasn't about to let anybody down now. She never had, and never will.

T'Panu stood, turned to both Annika and Dr Rez, and explained apologetically. "I apologize for my performance, but there's work to do. Thank you for your concern. I have let you down, but I won't let our patients down. After this is all over, I will seek counselling which I realize I need more than I ever thought. I'll clean up my mess and grab a Tricorder to start assessing the patients Annika triages."

T'Panu turned to the patients that had seen her outburst with an apologetic smile. They understood, and she got back to work, awaiting Jovela's arrival to help triage. She began administering the analgesics to help with the pain of the crew members that came in, seeing the open wounds and blood spread throughout their bay; the obvious phaser burns, the cuts and scrapes. She wondered just how many crew members would be seeking medical help. "Perhaps we should prepare for an overload of patients. We should prep Vector 01 Sickbay for the influx and prepare for the worst."

[ Annika Van den Berg | Main Sickbay | Deck 11 | USS Theurgy ] @lisavw @Nolan @Lex Dalton

After Annika had asked if there was anything she could do, a Trill doctor walked over and looked her up and down before saying.

”If you want to make yourself useful, please take a PADD and try and get the names and injuries of those coming in. I'll give us a better view on who's here and who's still unaccountable along with the sort of injuries we need to tend to first.” before turning towards the crazy Vulcan and asking her about meditating or something. Annika had stopped paying attention after she grabbed the PADD and set out on a personal mission of feeling useful.

As an injured crew member walked through the entrance, Annika walked up to her.

”Name and injury?” before noticing plasma burns on the woman’s right arm.

”Ensign Logan and obviously plasma burns on my arm” she said whilst motioning to her right arm.

Annika nodded in response to the Ensign and in turn motioned to a chair.

”Have a seat” as Annika turned around to hear the familiar sound of the transporter beaming another injured crew member in.

As the patient finished materializing on the bio bed, she immediately noticed it was an injured Tellarite. Annika walked up to the injured and unconscious new arrival and froze upon seeing his injuries. She had a flashback to her youth.

Young Annika stared at her Dad standing over a Tellarite who was laying supine on the ground in front of their house. Her Dad was breathing heavy and holding a knife. Dripping off the knife was blood, which was adding to the pool of blood spreading out from underneath the Tellarite on the ground. Annika stared in horror and what her Dad had done

After she regained her sense, Annika noticed that the injuries on the injured Tellarite from the Theurgy was similar to the injuries from when her father murdered the Tellarite back on Earth. However, thankfully for Annika, this patient had been injured by debris rather than being stabbed by a delusional and xenophobic man. The Tellarite’s breathing was laboured and slowing.

Annika looked for the nearest doctor and yelled at the same time, ”This man needs help now!” as she awaited someone to help.

[ Lieutenant Junior Grade Zark (https://uss-theurgy.com/w/index.php?title=XamotZark_zh%E2%80%99Ptrell) | Security Center | Deck 07 | Vector: Combined | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @Auctor Lucan
[Show/Hide]

Zark heard the doors whisk open to the Security Center behind the drones. She heard a muffled roll as a robed individual entered the center and a wang as he kicked the legs out from under a drone. The harder clang as the drone hit the deck. Rolling a bit to the side she tucked her antennae back and risked a peek around the edge of the console. She saw what looked to be some sort of mad Romulan monk engaging the 4 drones at close quarters.

He opened up point blank with the rifle that he carried and the shields swallowed the blasts. Zark was about to call out a warning as the drone maneuvered to assimilate the Romulan Monk, when he just up and Sparta kicked a second one sending it falling. A nod of her head and she was raising to her feet. A hand placed on the console and she was vaulting over.

It’d be a warm sunny day on Andoria before she hid behind a console and was saved by an unknown civilian in a robe! Landing lightly on her toes she was moving swiftly towards the two still standing when the Romulan opened up with is rifle again. The bolts blasting through the Third drone. Borg shields were down. Again.

The Andorian didn’t pause to question why. They were up. They were down. They were up They were down. Well they were down right now and that gave the Security forces a few seconds to capitalize on it.

The armored form of the Exosuit accelerated. Zark was swift and agile, and the synthetic muscle technology accented that. The drones had turned to face Drauc and didn’t see her coming. The gleaming blades of her Chaka came around in her left hand, slashing high she connected with the back of the last standing drone’s neck. The triple blade of the Chaka hitting with the fore and then center blades on it’s way through both spine and metal. The Exosuit added it’s strength to the Andorian’s not inconsiderable muscle. Sparks flew as well as some biofluid when the spine was severed. Glitching and spazzing out due to the severed spinal column, the drone crashed forward. A bark of laughter escaped the young woman as it clanged to the floor.

Even as it fell the dark blue security officer gave the Romulan a nod, her voice coming from the helmet. “Thanks for the assist!” She pivoted and slammed downwards, dropping to a knee as the center blade of the Chaka was PUNCHED brutally through one of the still functioning, but fallen drone’s organic eye and deep into the skull. She wrenched the blade clockwise a quarter turn then counterclockwise. CRUNCH CRUNCH!

The remaining security crewman had absolutely zero intention of getting close. He wasn’t in an exosuit, and more over, screw THAT. When the Romulan’s shots dropped the one drone and then the Andorian officer vaulted the console and ran up to engage the other. He rolled to the side, took careful aim with his rifle and squeezed the trigger as he’d been taught. The three pulse blasts lanced out and hit the second toppled drone in the face. The energy bolts hit the unshielded drone from just a few meters away, cored his head and blew brains and bits of circuitry over the carpet. The crewman gulped a bit and then slowly rose to a knee.. then slowly to fully standing spinning around to make sure no drones were creeping up on them from behind to assimilate them unawares.

Zark herself looked around, antennae, in their little armored sheaths perked up and pivoted to one side and the other as well. A wrenching motion and she tugged her Chaka out of the drone’s head. Flicking her wrist sent a few hunks of flesh and chunks of bone to splatter off to the side. She stood and looked to the Romulan and nodded the smile gleaming white behind the Exosuit’s faceplate. "Great timing, big guy.”

[ Lt Cmdr Hathev | Upper Shuttle Bay | Deck 11 | Vector 01 | USS Theurgy ] 

Hathev suppressed a flicker of frustration at the redsuit's careless attitude. Just another brute with a phaser, apparently, and completely disinterested in being of any use outside of combat. Then again, the woman clearly wasn't Starfleet, so perhaps Hathev should have lowered her expectations to begin with.

No matter. The priorities remained the same: keep the survivors safe, and care for the injured among them. If the redsuit refused to help, perhaps she would also be too lethargic to hinder them. Hathev disliked having to rely on such nebulous assumptions, but for now they would have to do.

She turned back to the crew, regarding them carefully. There had been mutterings among them when she had spoken to the redsuit about moving to a sickbay; some still harboured hope for an escape. Casting an eye over them she picked out one or two who might cause trouble over the issue, but she predicted most would follow the crowd. Still, something worth dealing with pre-emptively.

Hathev fixed the potential troublemakers with a steely gaze, addressing the group of survivors. 'From what we have all seen here only moments ago it should be clear that this ship is currently engaged with a Borg Cube, and potentially an unknown number of other vessels. Though I am sure none of us wish to remain on a rebel ship, if we were to attempt escape at this point our chances of survival would be negligible at best. I will not compel any of you to remain but I hope my meaning is clear when I say it is not your duty to die today.'

Her own duty was done. She had spoken the truth: if any among them wished to leave, she would not stop them. She was not in the business of trying to save a lost cause. If they wanted to play the fool, so be it. She need only concern herself with those she could help.

With no more living Borg in the bay, it was a straight shot to the doors. It would be fairly easy to find the sickbay even without directions, as important destinations should be signposted on every Federation starship. But the likelihood of encountering more Borg out in the corridors was uncomfortably high, and without weapons or a knowledge of their surroundings, Hathev did not much like their chances of making it to a medbay without taking further casualties.

The redsuit was, unfortunately, their best option. Hathev turned back to face her, but frowned at the sight of not one but two women now standing before her. The newcomer was an Andorian, apparently familiar to both the redsuit and the Theurgy. Although she wasn't dressed in a Starfleet uniform she carried herself with an authority that led one of the crew behind Hathev to call out for her to open the hangar doors.

The Andorian's response was decisive, drawing a weapon and warning both the crew of the Bellerophon and the redsuit not to cross her. Hathev prickled at the woman's command as she ordered the crew to move to the back of the bay; she had only been aboard the Bellerophon for a few days, and bore no connection in particular to the crew, but to follow the orders of rebels and traitors... She was in no position to contest the command, however, and so complied.

'I know it may be hard to believe, but I advise you all cooperate, and hear out the captain,' the Andorian addressed them. 'She will come along shortly, and tell you what Admiral Sankolov hasn't. Now, however, you need to clear this deck. Time is short.'

Hathev's lip curled in a half-smirk at that assessment. Hard to believe. Some might say impossible. She would be first among them. With aid secured for the injured crew, Hathev no longer had any reason to ask these turncoats for help, nor to listen to their poisonous delusions.

Then again, she had to admit a... professional curiosity with regards to those delusions. The captain who could espouse such conspiracies and pollute an entire ship to the point of rebellion... That was someone she would be interested to meet.

'This captain of yours,' she said boldly, addressing the Andorian, 'if she will treat my crew fairly and with compassion, I will afford her explanations that same courtesy.'

If she survived to return home, the book she would write about the cult of the Theurgy might be her greatest work yet.

[ Lt Cmdr. Wenn Cinn & Lieutenant ThanIda zh'Wann | Upper Shuttle Bay | Deck 11 | USS Theurgy ] This is a Joint-Post by chXinya & Auctor Lucan

Rematerializing near one of the parked shuttles, Cinn looked around to survey the damage from the fighting. There were scorch marks from a fire-fight, a few of the shuttles had been knocked around with the impacts and hard maneuvers, but one Type 11 shuttle was already prepped and waiting. There were people in the back of the shuttle bay, who Cinn didn't recignise, but right then, there was only one thing on his mind.  The moment his dark eyes locked onto the familiar blue face, Cinn was across the bay. She had been standing by the shuttle, prepping if for flight. Ida turned her head just before he enveloped her in a bear hug. "By the Prophets you have no idea what it means to see you." he whispered straight into the Andorian's ear.  For some reason, seeing her alive and well brought a massive weight of of the Bajoran's shoulders.  He knew that as long as she was alive the crew was safe.

"Cinn," she said, caught by surprise... and despite her ordeal on the Versant, Ida couldn't muster the sense of indignation, of hating how her personal space had been invaded. She'd heard what the Captain said. Knew what Cinn was about to do, and it made her awkwardly raise her arms, and return the embrace. She felt her face twisting, and the notion that he would vanish once more finally settled in her mind. She wanted to curse him. To kick him and strike him down so that he might not leave the crew again. To not leave her once more. She'd already lost him before. She hated him for leaving her behind, but she couldn't say it. She couldn't beg him to stay like she was still suckling zhiassa, but she couldn't stop the tears that ran from her glare.

Finally letting go, Cinn didn't bother to recover a professional demeanor.  Looking down at the items in her hands, "These are it then?"

"Aye," she said, her jaws clenched, and she ran her free hand through her white hair, masking how she brushed away her tears as well. She cleared her throat. "The instructions are on that tablet. The password is Whisky, Alpha, Lima, Delta, Oscar."

Taking them from her, Cinn keyed it in and glanced at the instructions on the strange PADD.  They were pretty straightforward, though looking at the ball they went to, he wasn't sure if he'd be able to figure it out without them.  Certainly not in the few scant minutes left before the apocalypse arrived.  Before climbing into the cockpit, Cinn looked at his deputy straight in the eyes.  He knew her record, where she came from, why she was here, how her passion was both a boon and a hindrance to her.  "Take care of yourself." he finally counseled.  It was short and cliche, but that was all there was time for.

"I..." Ida began to say, but Cinn has already turned away. Was that it? She couldn't muster the words. She wanted to say that Cinn deserved more. That it was unfair. That the crew still needed him, but what of it? He didn't seem to care. He would just sacrifice himself because those aliens in the Bajoran wormhole told him to? Words failed her, and she was left standing there, with all the things unsaid. The bond she had with Cinn would be severed again, after having watched him die once already, and she couldn't tell him how much she looked up to the ridge-nose, and how grateful she was for his companionship. They had been comrades in arms since the ship was commissioned, and she wanted to laud him for his service and his dedication to the mission.

But she was left standing there, when the shuttle's airlock closed. Like a statue coming alive, she stepped away, her hands white-knuckled fists at her sides. She didn't bother to wipe away her tears again, while she watched Cinn take off.

Climbing aboard the shuttle, Cinn dropped into the pilot's seat and ran the final pre-flight steps.  It only took a few seconds, just enough time for Ida to get clear.  Looking out the open hangar doors, the Azure Nebula shone faintly against the stars while flashes of light marked ships jumping to warp.  The massive aperture hung off to the side, heralding the doom of everything.  As a security officer in Starfleet, Wenn Cinn could not allow that to happen.

Powering up the engines, the shuttle lifted off of the deck.  "Shuttle 3 departing."  With that one regulation-required phrase echoing in the shuttle control room and the Bridge, Cinn slipped through the atmospheric forcefield and angled straight for the aperture...

...where the Borg were coming through.

[ Ens. Cir'Cie (https://uss-theurgy.com/w/index.php?title=Cir%27Cie) | Main Engineering | Deck 25 | USS Theurgy ]
^{Attn: @alphawiz @Doc M.}
[Show/Hide]Cir'Cie's mien was completely void of emotion when Lieutenant Jeen gave O'Connell a dressing down, her hearing picking out most of the words. She might not have managed to rid herself completely from passive aggressive tendencies, but far be it from her to entertain humour at the expense of other shipmates. In her regard, such crude demeanour wasn't befitting a Vulcan, or a Starfleet officer for that matter. If anything, the delay in executing the task set before them was illogical. Clearly the ship faced a crisis unlike any it had faced before?

"Correct, Lieutenant," she said, having started the task herself since the others tarried with nonsensical debate and questions. "I have deactivated gravity in sealed and empty compartments, and I am now dedicating the available energy to the replication and transportation sequence. The bridge need this now, so I am about to inform officer Morgan Song that he can deploy the interference relays."

On a separate screen, she brought up the communication system, activating the voice-to-text feature. "Engineering to Petty Officer Song. Sequence ready to be authorised and energised at your command."

Once she had done the work for the present engineers, she ran diagnostic on the ship's systems. "The structural integrity field is holding over the hull breaches on decks two, thee, four, six, ten, twelve, eleven, twenty, twenty three, twenty six through eight and thirty two. I am lighting up the sections that are depressurised, as well as the current emergency force-fields that have been raised. Dorsal-starboard nacelle is offline, leaking plasma, ventral-port nacelle as well. I am reading plasma leaks in the dorsal-port nacelle as well, but it's still offline. All three warp cores are online and compensating for loss of EPS grid integrity. We have impulse speed, but if we are to go to warp, I believe we need on-site repair crews. Immediately. Until this is done, I am trying to seal the plasma leaks from here."

She looked up at the two males - the Trill and the Human. She raised an eyebrow at them. "I could use adequate assistance with these tasks," she said, keeping any dryness from her tone. At least she was confident the present officers in Engineering, who may only know her as a formerly mind-controlled saboteur from Vasser's mutiny, now shed the notion that she was just a botanist. She was a Starfleet officer and a Vulcan. She had many talents, and had been taught many things. "Further delays may have dire consequences, so I suggest expedient actions."

The situation aside, Cir'Cie's personal regret was the lingering headache from the prior evening. It made it difficult to contain irritation and keep focused. More so, with Kaylon Jeen present, she was reminded about her shortcomings in self-discipline. As gratifying as coitus with the man had been at the time, judging by the flashes of memories that surfaced in his company, the event served as a distraction she didn't need.

[ Drauc T'Laus (https://uss-theurgy.com/w/index.php?title=Drauc_T%27Laus) | Security Centre Lobby | Deck 08 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @Cosmos
[Show/Hide]Working together with the two present security officers, Drauc T'Laus dealt with the remaining drones - the flashes of phaser bolts lighting up the interior of the lobby. Once the metal and flesh humanoids were out of commission, Drauc turned to the Andorian who had laughed, her blue face evident behind her visor. Her martial arts skills had been impressive, and quite efficient when utilising the added strength of the exosuit. She was thanking him for his sense of timing, and he inclined his head.

"I had come sooner if the turbolifts were working," he rasped to her, only briefly picking up on her thoughts and emotions. She seemed to be exhilarated about being in the battlefield, contrary to her companion, and it wasn't often Drauc experienced such a mind-set and attitude. Dyan Cardamone had shared that lust for battle, but the Asurian's instincts - and her desire for harm - were quite different from that of the Andorian. While Dyan had been a chaotic presence in his mind, the Andorian was exhilarated in a completely different manner. In a... wholesome way, as far as he could determine from their initial encounter.

Having looked into her eyes though the burgundy tresses of his hair, piercing the darkness of the room as well as her visor with his passive scrutiny, he soon looked away towards the door behind the console. It led to the Security Command Center, with all the internal sensors and available surveillance screens of the ship.  "With so many teams deployed, I can stand guard here, while the two of you try to ascertain how many drones are left aboard. I will not let any more come through."

Drauc turned his stare back to the Andorian, his next words being of more personal nature. "You are uniquely apt for your chosen profession. Where I have met many of the Andorian warrior caste, your spirit is not dampened by the burdens, nor do you crave to inflict harm solely for the sake of it. Do not loose this spirit, officer Zark, for it is just as much your fortifications as it is a part of your weaponry."

Having said as much, Drauc turned away from her - his threadbare robe settling around his legs as he set his eyes on the entrance. He would stand guard in the darkness, and no drones would pass him by.

[ Lieutenant Elro Kobol | Corridors | Deck 11 | Vector 02 | USS Theurgy ] @Juzzie

Elro found it uncomfortable to watch the disheveled looking counselor cut through the pinning fragments of metal surrounding the trapped crewman; he didn’t like waiting on things, it made him feel anxious. The hesitant progress of the man didn't do a whole lot more to stay his nerves, but he continuosuly reminded himself that he was much worse with a phaser than Rhys was. He wasn't quite sure why, it was just a very big exoscalpel... He was great with the latter....

Yet, despite all of his conflicting reservations, he had to thank his luck that he’d run into Rhys so suddenly; the distraction was a welcome one, and the Borg suddenly seemed a lot more distant now that there was a critically injured crewman underneath the rubble before him. Being stuffed up in a Sickbay with no triage or urgent treatment required for its occupants, would have been delightful for some Doctors. For Elro, it was an uncomfortable, yawning, void of inactivity that allowed his fears and anxieties to bubble up freely. Being back in a situation where he was being depended on to make life and death decisions however, misted out any fear of the Borg behind a fog of knowlege and diagnostics.

From what Elro could extrapolate from his tricorder readings, it looked as though the man's legs had been crushed fairly severely by the falling debris. The limbs were no doubt numbed with pain, rife with internal bleeding, muscle contusion and shattered bone fragments. From what he could tell, the femur was in one piece, nought but a few fractures, but the tibia and fibula were both broken in several places... Whether the legs could be saved at this stage was another matter entirely, they were ravaged from the debris and internal damage... But his life was the more pressing concern in Elro's mind... Judging from the information the tricorder was feeding him, the debris had damaged much more than his legs.

He had internal bleeding somewhere in his abdomen, and his head had taken a nasty blow, and the man would have a concussion at the very least, perhaps even a subarachnoid haemorrhage if he wasn’t lucky. A bleed on the brain wouldn’t be a huge concern if he were in sickbay; it was life threatening, but treatable with the right intervention in good time. Out in the corridors with Borg flooding the ship however, was a different story…

“Glad to see you.” A small singsong voice echoed in his ears, making Elro snap out of his diagnostic trance, to turn to catch the fleeting corner of an honest smile across Rhys’s lips.

“Likewise Leuitenant.” Elro returned with a soft nod. “You’re one of the few people I know aboard this ship; I’m...” Elro wasn’t great at displays of emotion or expressions of his feelings, but it was hardly the time for a heart to heart about how glad he was to see the young councilor in one piece. Instead, he crouched down to the crewman pinned under the rubble, ignoring the fact he had started a sentance without finishing it.

“I won’t lie, your condition could hardly be described as stellar…” Elro paused, as usual coming up with a way to intwine his Betazoid honesty with some hope from his optimistic treatment plans. “But there's no reason we can’t save you… So if you could try and steady your breathing, I’m going to give you an analgesic for the pain.” He said with a kind expression, producing a hypospray from his kit and reaching through the rubble to apply it to his newest patient.

[ William Robert O’Connell (http://fc01.deviantart.net/fs71/f/2014/219/f/7/oconnel_row_01_by_auctor_lucan-d7u6n2x.png) | Main Engineering | Deck 25 | USS Theurgy ]  ^{Attn:  @alphawiz  @Auctor Lucan  @fiendfall  @FollowTomorrow}

"Chief, didn't you ask for that to be brought to you?" Kaylon reprimanded.  "I'm pretty certain I heard you ask for it."

“Yes sir, Ah did, an’ Ah also admitted thet Ah wuz lookin’ fur uh replacement,” Billy Bob admitted sheepishly.  “Know any takers?”  There was no escaping it.  All of those long hours with no leave had left O’Connell’s knife too dull to cut hot butter.  The old master chief needed a furlough before he blew the ship up. 

Things got worse when the gorram BOTANIST took over engineering to the chagrin of both Lieutenant Jeen and himself.  When he asked for takers he didn’t mean her.  The problem was that the master systems display table backed up everything she said and there was no correcting her.  There was only one thing left to do in order to emerge with a sense of dignity intact.  Surrender the field of battle and let Lieutenant Jeen handle her. 

“I’ll lead th’ team makin’ repairs on th’ dorsal-starboard nacelle,” the master chief volunteered in order to escape the room before Ensign Cir’Ce emasculated him further.  It would be grueling and dangerous work, but anything seemed better than watching the Theurgy’s walking jinx take over his department.  “Johnson, Koizumi, an' Zol, you’re with me.  Git yore tools an’ meet me at th’ turbolift cloast to mah office,” he ordered as he turned on his heel to walk over to one of the workstations and pick up a PADD.  He opened a file and handed it to Kaylon.  “Sir, this here is a list of the folks we got available to make th’ repairs.  Until I git back yore in charge Lieutenant,” Billy Bob announced with a nod. 

As Billy Bob returned to his office to retrieve his toolkit, he wondered what Kaylon would do once he was left in charge.  There was a good chance the lieutenant would go to personally supervise the repairs on the dorsal-port nacelle but O’Connell was hoping he’d delegate and oversee the entire operation from main engineering.  It was vital for the enlisted crew in engineering see him as an authority figure if he was going to become the Theurgy’s permanent chief engineering officer.  Taking orders from a slip of an ensign wasn’t going to create that image so the master chief hoped that Lieutenant Jeen would assert himself.  The absolute worst possible thing he could would be remain and receive orders from Cir’Ce instead of giving them.  That would undercut both the lieutenant and Billy Bob in the eyes of the department.

---

[ Maya (https://uss-theurgy.com/w/index.php?title=Dr._Maya) | Main Sickbay | Deck 11 | Vector 02 | USS Theurgy ] ^{Attn: @Auctor Lucan  @TWilkins @lisavw @FollowTomorrow} 

”This man needs help now!” Lieutenant (junior grade) Annika Juliana Van den Berg cried out.

“Lieutenant, I will take him,” Doctor Maya replied calmly as she used a hypospray on the injured Telarite’s neck.  The little Vulcan was already wearing her crimson colored surgical scrubs and was prepared for duty.  The green blooded physician turned to the coffee colored enlisted nurse standing next to her.  “Jones take Mister Luff to surgical suite two and prepare him for surgery,” she ordered.  Jones quickly retrieved an antigravity gurney and together she and Maya transferred the portly and comatose patient to the gurney and whisked him away.

[ Lieutenant Junior Grade Zark (https://uss-theurgy.com/w/index.php?title=XamotZark_zh%E2%80%99Ptrell) | Security Center | Deck 07 | Vector: Combined | USS Theurgy ]   Attn: @Auctor Lucan
[Show/Hide]
Zark smiled at the Romulan’s response about the turbolifts and nodded. “Yeah that can be a bummer and slow down the best of us.” Turning she moved to one of the fallen security officers and kneeled. A flick of her thumb and the memory metal of the Chaka refolded itself into the grip and she placed it on her belt. With a practiced motion she drew the medical tricorder and flipped it open scanning the fallen crewman. A shake of her head and sigh. The antennae in their little armored sleeves atop the helmet drooped a bit and she reached and closed his eyes, as was the human custom. Far different from the Klingon one who liked their dead eyes open.

Zark glanced up at Drauc as he spoke again and her antennae twitched. She glanced to the door and gave a firm nod. “Sounds like a plan.” Flicking the medical tricorder shut with a practiced motion she holstered it. Reaching down she relieved the fallen man of his spare power cells for the phaser and the rifle itself. Standing she moved over to Drauc and offered him the cells. “Better to have um and not need them than need um and not have um.”  She offered a smile up to him through the faceplate of the helmet.

Then he paused to compliment her. The young officer’s head tilted to the side a moment and her antennae craned forward as she listened. A bit of a nod and she looked around her. “I hate to have to do it.. but if not me.. who? I’d rather be here.. and my bondgroup safe. My people safe. So we hold the line. Heal all that we can and if we have to harm…”  She shrugged a bit. “Regrettable but necessary. The 'Verse doesn’t always give us a diplomatic option.”

She nodded to Drauc as he took up position and she held up the rifle and put it behind the console. “Phaser here if you need a fallback position, big guy.”

Then she and the crewman moved deeper into the Security Center’s core. Finding the consoles there she brought them online and accessed the Security Comm channel.

“Lieutenant Zark to Security forces. Security center re-taken. Conducting sweeps now… and will be relaying position of resistance to your squads forthwith. Lets take out the trash.”

[ Dyan Cardamone/Sar-unga Neleo | Corridors | Deck 7 | Vector 02 | USS Theurgy ] @TWilkins

Art in death was not a concept Dyan grasped, though perhaps others of her kind did. If she did grasp it, it was a fleeting, momentary understanding that left her the second it was no longer useful. As she wiped some blood off her face and bared her usual troublemaker grin, her mind had already moved on from the drone. It deserved no more than a half-minute of contemplation from her, she felt.

Her ‘swagger’, to her, felt like her usual walk. Confident, full of herself, sexy-and-she-knows-it. All the things she loved to be. She was in her element here, taunting the little green spy. She knew that he was a spy, because he was orion, and doing suspicious things to the computer core. She had no further evidence. She needed no further evidence. She was right, and this was the end of the conversation. So when the topic changed, she thought nothing more of going along with it. It was just even further confirmation, in her mind.

“Is that it?” She half laughed as she spoke, “That’s the information you’ve been after all this time? You risked your life for that?” She let him go, not because he ‘asked’, but because a great big belly laugh was brewing. She could hardly believe it. What an idiot, her tone seemed to imply without even the slightest hint of irony.

“We’ve got a foothold situation in the Federation. And in, like, every other major power we investigate. Parasites, but they don’t change your biosigns, so they’re effectively invisible. We will not be dying. We will survive to defend this truth, spread it across the cosmos. If you had the common sense, you’d probably have found this whole ‘secret’ out by yourself, considering our whole goal is to make it not a secret anymore.” She paused, giving a glance around the area.

The man, partially assimilated, had the great misfortune of catching her attention. She walked towards him--her back to what she thought was a crewman, as if she either trusted him or did not consider him a threat. Her sindt flipped forward, like an extension of her arm. In one swift, maybe even graceful movement, she had relieved the man of his head. She kicked the head away, apparently amused by the way it rolled now that it was free of a neck.

“Listen. You’re obviously still new at being a spy.” She turned back to face him, “Or at least, newer at this than I am. Either that, or someone up the chain sent you on a suicide mission to get rid of you, because our whole goal is to make sure everyone knows this info. That’s why the Feddies want us dead in the first place. And now that you know, they want you dead too.” She stopped to adjust her sindt, it flipped back into place. It remained alongside her arm, parallel to it.

“You’ve got two choice here. One--you team up with me!” She laughed again, as if she knew just how awful that option sounded and she loved inflicting it on him.

“I’m sure you have the same standing orders I do--kill yourself before you get assimilated. The borg can’t have either of us. But things get messy in combat like this, and let’s be honest, those daggers are a pathetic way to die. So we stick together. If you’re injected, I kill you before it gets too far. If I get injected, same for me.”

“Or. You choose not to team up with me, and I offer you up to the borg to be assimilated. Then I kill you.” She pushed her hair out of her face. The white strands absorbed blood unusually well.

“Make your choice spy. Either way, I get a kick out of this.”

---

OOC: Ejek post on the way. I'll be posting them separate for now, so please pardon my double-posting

[ Y'Lev | Corridors | Deck 7 | USS Theurgy ] @FollowTomorrow

Y’Lev watched up through his lashes with a disdainful expression as Cardamone wiped the blood off of her face with a rather repugnant grin decorating her mouth. She moved away from him, releasing her grip upon his hair callously and making him hiss in discomfort. She moved away from him with a structured confidence that made her look arrogant and aloof to all that surrounded her, flicking her blade down and severing the head of the man who’d been subjected to the Borg drone just moments before.

She then kicked the severed head bouncing down the deck.

A former crewmate of hers? Y’Lev grimaced at the thought that this woman he was dealing with was possibly the least Starfleet person whom could have ended up getting his scent. She was happy to mock him all the whole too, mocking his attempts at gathering intel, then following up her jeering with the most inconceivable nonsense he had heard in a long time. Evidently, she was an utterly unhinged lunatic.

Parasites that are invisible… That had infected the Federation and the other major powers that dominated the Alpha quadrant… But, of course, he was a fool for not having discovered the invisible parasites all by himself… It was sheer lunacy.

Yet… Said lunacy was a feasible enough explanation to reveal as to why the USS Theurgy was being hunted by Starfleet so ruthlessly and uncharacteristically. It would explain why the crew were so determined and reckless, going as far as to split another ship in two… Yes, being renegades also demonstrated those facts, but one thing that theory didn’t support, was why the Theurgy had just flown itself into an apparent Borg assault, and Y’Lev was veered well enough in war to know that the crew were far too prepared for this to have been an ambush.

Renegades wouldn’t fly themselves into the proverbial jaws of the proverbial beast…

Regardless, it wasn’t his position to make assumptions or theories. He was there to gather intelligence; there were a whole building full of analysts who existed to interpret the data. He just needed to deliver it to them.

Unless…

Cardamone had mentioned that these make-believe parasites had infected every major power that the Theurgy has encountered on its journey… That would have had to include the Orion Syndicate, no other force held more sway over the politics of the quadrant…  If Cardamone was somehow telling the truth, the Syndicate high command could be compromised… If he reported back to the Syndicate about a parasite that had infected the higher echelons, the Primus,  the Legatus… It could destabilize the entire Syndicate. Whether that intel were true or not, it could start a Civil war, if someone interpreted it the same way that he had. make the hierarchy collapse in onto itself…

He ground his teeth together… It seemed he had just bitten off more than he really wanted to chew…

Still, he had to verify that information. The goat could hardly be trusted…

Luckily, Y’Lev’s internal monologue had taken favour in his head over Cardamone’s ranting and dismissal of his abilities… But regrettably, not enough to miss hearing her mention the possibility of… Teaming up… With her.  He almost gagged. But at this stage, it was the best option.

“You say I’m a terrible spy… But you just told me everything.” He decided to muse aloud with a sing-song tone, flinging himself up onto his feet and stretching out his neck and back a little. The stretching was a cover to glance for routes out, ways to escape, anything that would assist him in increasing his odds in surviving…

“It appears you have me at an impasse.” He sighed loftily. “I don’t know if I can beat you in a fair fight. To be honest, my speciality involves poisons and bioweaponry… Probably a bit beyond your understanding…” He couldn’t resist a jab, it was the only way he could stomach what he was about to say.

“So, we can stick together, and I can add a little elegance to your brutish charge.” He took a step forward leaning to whisper into her ear through her platinum blonde hair. “And if you’re really lucky, you won’t find yourself with a ‘pathetic dagger’ sticking out of your throat.” He pulled away with a dashing smile.

“Alas, lead the way then, darling.”

[ Dr. Silim Parnak (https://uss-theurgy.com/w/index.php?title=Silim_Parnak) & Lt. Zelosa Ejek | Counsellor's Office | Deck 11 | Vector 02 | USS Theurgy ] Joint post with @Arista ]
[Show/Hide]
In the dim light of Ejek’s office, Parnak was busy trying to keep himself prepared. There was something sweet and intimate about being alone with the counselor in her workspace. Somewhere, much like his quarters, where they could be themselves without the watchful eye of the other starfleeters.  That was, at least, until the counselor called to him. The situation was tense, yet he always had time for her.

Turning, he came face to face with his shorter companion and smiled. It was a wide, cheeky grin. Something to fill the gap while he pondered what quip or one liner to use. Though, when he saw the look in her eyes, he faltered. Thank you, she had said, pressing her hand into his. In that instance, for one of the few times he had known, he was lost for words. All he could do was to just be with her and bask in the feeling of her flesh against his.

Moments passed and eventually Parnak found his courage, raising his hand. He knew what he wanted to do. He’d use his second knuckle on a lightly closed fist to lift her chin, before giving a witty comment and sharing a kiss. From his waist, his hand raised, ready to enact his plan. He wasn’t sure why he was nervous. Could be it be that he cared more than her than the others? Or was it that right now, he risked their friendship. The companionship he had come to depend on to give that sense of home.

Before he managed to reach her chin, from outside, there was the sound of shouting and commotion. Their brief period in time together was lost, like passing ships in the night. With a small knowing look to each other, Ejek left.

Parnak stood alone in the darkened room.

[ Lt. Zelosa Ejek | Main Sickbay | USS Theurgy ]

The doors closed behind her with a soft woosh, though she hardly heard it over the racket of battle. Sickbay was already starting up with patients and orders shouted. She found her mind falling away from the emotions, left in her office with the vaccines and bland furniture and her fluttering heart. She had taken with her a PADD and some vaccines. She’d keep the science team updated on her vaccination antics, but she needed an assistant. She could hold all of these things in her two arms.

“Ensign B’nila?” She called out, hoping her peer would respond, but she did not see her. In fact, now that she focused on it, she had not seen B’nila at all since the combat began. The Cardassian began to walk sickbay, searching for her ward. Ejek couldn’t even try to fool herself into thinking the woman was capable of caring for herself. She was self-destructive right now. Without someone there to guide her, she may just hurtle herself head-first towards oblivion. Or, perhaps more likely, oblivion would be hiding around a corner, waiting to spring on the vulnerable Elsarian. All these thoughts ran through her mind as she began administering vaccines, all while asking,
“B’nila? B’nila? Has anyone seen Ensign B’nila?”

Nothing. Nobody had seen her. One vaccine, two, four, five, eight, and nobody knew. Finally she exhausted the handful of vaccines she had taken and been through all of sickbay and nobody had seen her. Her gut told her bad things. Her gut told her to follow. Normally quite the logical woman, Ejek found herself abandoning sickbay, headed down the hall, clutching the PADD close to her chest. It was more than a brisk walk, not quite a panicked run.

She should’ve said something to her. Stay by my side, or stay close. She shouldn’t have assumed she’d know to stay in sickbay. She should’ve had her committed to sickbay for her mental health, she should’ve assigned a nurse to her, she should’ve done something. Anything other than this. The dread grew and grew until she heard it--

“Ejek!”

It was her voice, weak and wispy. She was hurt. She heard pain in how she called. Ejek ran towards it, despite her fears telling her to turn back, to hide. She ran down the hall, turned the corner, and--

“Heke’arkan!” She found herself gasping and stumbling backwards, because the sight she saw was not B’Nila as she knew her. The Elsarian was normally pale, but not like this. She was turning whiter, and Ejek could see every vein in her body coming to the surface - straining against her skin like they were a balloon full of too much air. Pulling on her hair, B’Nila stepped forward as if she was drunk. The force that she pulled with was causing her to rip out her hair, as her body began to fall apart and remake into something else. Crumbled to the floor, by her side, was a drone. A massive smouldering hole where it’s head should have been. Nearby, a hand phaser lay on deck, still operating with the lights indicating it’s setting. On her body--holes, where tubules had punctured the delicate skin of her neck, scratches where she’d been using her nails to repeatedly tear her own skin open. Her eyes met Ejek’s, and the Cardassian knew that B’Nila was only half there.

“Please...” She cried out, in relief and joy at having found her former mentor, “Ejek, please, help me.” She began to stir once again, her body...didn’t look right. It didn’t move with the fluidity that she expected. She was hurt, or already, the borg nanoprobes were growing new structures in her body, removing old ones.

Fumbling step after fumbling step, the Elsarian moved closer. Ejek couldn’t speak, she could only step backwards, clutching the PADD so tight to her chest and breathing heavy. Based on her movement, her appearance, the fact that she could see prosthetics growing under the skin--she was already too far gone. No vaccine could save her.

“Ejek, please, you can help me. You can save me. You always know what to do…” Clawing at her own skin, B’Nila pleaded with sad, desperate eyes.  “I don’t want to die anymore. Not like this.”

But Ejek couldn’t do this. Not like this indeed. B’Nila, a walking dead woman, stumbled towards her, coming closer and closer. She felt tears on her face as she backed away. Her mind was screaming at her to hide. Zelosa, run and hide.

“The voices.” B’Nila whimpered. “They’re so loud--It’s not--I’m not--it’s…”

The plea stopped suddenly and by the time Ejek wiped away the clear salty liquid that obscured her vision, she could suddenly understand why. Like a marionette picked up by it’s strings, B’Nila stood at attention in the corridor perfectly calm and still. No longer was she tearing at her own skin, pulling hair or pleading. Instead she silently stared down the Cardassian. Ejek could see that the Elsarian observed, but no longer saw.

It had happened. Another soul lost to the Borg.

The sudden movement broke the spell of silence in the corridor, B’Nila stepped forward. Not fumbling like she had previously, but purposefully. Dead eyes continued to scrutinize the Cardassian counselor as her lips parted and robotically she spoke.

“You will be assim…”

A bright orange stream of light broke the terror unfolding and hit the new drone squarely in the chest, burning away a section of her uniform and searing the pale white flesh underneath. If B’Nila was a marionette previously, now someone had cut the puppet’s strings as the former counselor tumbled ungracefully to the deck.

Ejek turned, not only to check who had fired but also, to avert her gaze. A few steps back down the corridor stood Parnak. The tall Cardassian had a grim look. In his hands he held a hand phaser, it’s barrel still smouldering, sending small wisps of smoke into the air.

She had been so weak just now. So vulnerable, watching her protege turn like that and denying her the death she needed. She was still weak, biting back her terror and fear and the pain she saw, B’Nila all still and crumpled on the floor. After all her struggle with Michal, her loss of identity...she did want to live after all. Just like that, it was taken from her.

Her shoulders shook. She kept her back to Parnak, unwilling to show him the grief she felt, but unwilling to let herself keep it in much longer either. B’Nila was gone. She was gone now. Gone. Gone and Ejek did nothing to save her.

[ Lt. Kai Akoni | Deck 11 Corridor | USS Theurgy ]

Kai had just finished climbing down from Deck four and exited the Jeffries Tube and stepped onto the deck plating of Deck 11 and started making his way towards Main Sickbay. What he saw on that deck was no different than the rest of the ship he had seen since the battle began. 

The ship was a mess, there was debris strewn all over the place, the acrid smell of smoke hung in the air and there were corpses, both Borg and Starfleet alike. He shook his head at all the loss of life that had occurred, not to mention how long it would take to repair the Theurgy. He heard some shouting getting closer to him as he saw some medical orderlies running down the corridor towards him. He pressed himself against the right side of the corridor as he tried to make as much room as possible for them to pass by. He didn’t really hear what they said as they whizzed by. He did catch one snippet of their conversation that piqued his curiosity, in which they said that survivors from the Savi ship were being beamed aboard in the transporter rooms on Deck five.

Kai rounded the bend in the corridor and saw two security crewmen stationed outside of the sickbay doors. He looked at them and sighed, thankful that their body language conveyed the fact there was no immediate threat at sickbay. 

He walked up to them, ”Gentlemen, what’s your status?” he asked.

The older looking of the two, even though Kai thought they both looked about 12 years old, spoke.

”No more threat here at the moment Lieutenant. We have another team sweeping this deck compartment by compartment. Survivors from the Savi ship are being beamed aboard as we speak, and the turbolifts are functional again”

Kai rubbed his scruffy face as he took in the information and took a deep breath. He nodded at the crew members as he found his voice again.

”Excellent. Keep up the good work, I’ll be on deck five” Kai finished saying as he turned around and started making his way to the turbolift. He thought about his friend and wondered if it was true that he was still alive.

Either way, Kai would find out shortly.

[ Dr T'Panu | Main Sickbay | Deck 11 | Vector 02 | USS Theurgy ]

T'Panu was still in shock, but she was beginning to stabilize. After her crazy outburst, she caused a lot of commotion in Sickbay, Which was admittedly impressive, given the chaos that had already ensued.

"Jones take Mister Luff to surgical suite two and prepare him for surgery," Doctor Maya had called out. She watched as the man was taken away via the antigravity gurney.

Every time T'Panu looked up, she swore there was someone new coming into Sickbay. Some under their own power, others unable to.  She scanned her next patient with her Tricorder, as she asked, "Where are you hurt the worst?" As she asked, she began fixing up their wounds. First with the giant, open gash on the thigh, next with the blood dripping down from a laceration to their brow. She listened intently, as she had done with the others, as she was told of immense pain, coursing through their body.

"I'm going to administer 2cc's of Triptacederine. This is a rather strong drug, and anymore would be enough to anesthetize an Algorian mammoth. Soon you won't feel any pain, and you will drift off, hopefully, asleep. We will monitor you to the best of our ability amongst this chaos. If you need anything, please raise your hand, until one of us comes to help." T'Panu administered the dose, and within seconds, he fell into a deep sleep.

T'Panu felt someone grab her shoulder, as she began to turn around, confused of what was happening. As she spun, she saw someone coming towards her rapidly, as they lost their balance and fell. She took a step back to bolster herself and try to hold them upright; however, this failed and they both quickly went tumbling to the floor. T'Panu saw the Andorian hit his head and fall unconscious. She counted out how long as she tried to wake him. One one thousand, two one thousand, three one thousand.

"Hey, hey, wake up! She scanned the Andorian and found severe trauma, a large contusion on his frontal lobe, damage to his C6. He had uncontrollable tremors in his forearms and wrists. She continued scanning. Large, blunt force trauma to his abdominal region. Contusions to his back. Burns to 60% of his body. Blood everywhere. She realized he had been near a blast, forcing him backwards. He was likely attacked point blank, when there was an explosion on the ship, where he was thrown into a wall, hard, and subsequently injured everywhere. The damage to his cervical spine explained his tremors.

He began to speak, when he found he couldn't. He tried to mouth some words, but only a garbled mess came out. He had a look of panic, pain, fear; and then, nothingness.

T'Panu then realized she had his hand in hers, as his clutching ceased, and his arm fell to the floor, unmoving. She closed his eyes, and set him to the side to be moved to the morgue. She gave herself a chance to breathe. One one thousand, two one thousand, three one thousand, as she looked for the next patient. Time to get back to work.

[Lt. Rhys Williams| Corridors|Deck 11| Vector 2| USS Theurgy] @TWilkins

Rhys could almost sense the doctor’s trepidation. This was taking too long there was not doubt about it, but as the sweat dripped off his brow, Rhys knew there was nothing else he could really do. This had to be done slowly and carefully or he would risk further injuring the already very injured crewman. There were a couple of pained moans from the poor boy, as the wreckage shifted under Rhys’ phaser fire.

Elro’s response to his comment was very understandable both of them were outsiders on the ship and one of the few people the other knew. Not that they knew each other well, but there was a certain trust there after having worked to save lives together in the sickbay.

As the doctor tended to the young man Rhys continued to work on the rubble, and wreckage. It was taking so long and every groan of metal, every tick in a power conduit made Rhys imagine hordes of Borg were about to descend upon them. Eventually the young man was freed up enough that he could be moved. Rhys crouched next to the doctor. Rhys took him under the arms and with all his strength started to pull the crewman free. It was such an awkward angle that it made the work slow going, but it had to be done the longer he said under that junk the greater the chance that more would fall on him.

“Think we can get him to sickbay?” Rhys said looking at Elro with concern, he did not want to ask the other question rattling around in his head. ‘Will he make it that far?’ That would be too much to say.

[ Lieutenant Elro Kobol | Main Sickbay | Deck 11 | Vector 02 | USS Theurgy ]  @Juzzie

Elro grimaced slightly as Rhys helped move the man out from the rubble, having created enough space with his phaser to slowly shift the man through the briar maze of bulkhead debris. It was slow going, and with every passing second, Elro felt his anxiety growing. Less so for the Borg this time, but now. for his patient.

His tricorder readings had revealed to him only so much; they were accurate devices, but no substitute for the clarity of a physical examination.

As soon as he could safely reach the patient's legs, Elro crouched down with his exoscalpel and began cutting away the material of his uniform trousers, working speedily to expose the leg that his tricorder had flagged as being severely injured. The dark material fell away from the limb, and Elro barely needed an examination to confirm what his mind was telling him, though when his bare fingers pressed against the wound, his diagnosis was all but confirmed.

The patient let out a dire screech that all but drowned out whatever Rhys was asking him, whilst Elro steeled himself and pressed in a few more locations around the muscle, probably reducing the patient to tears, but clarifying everything he needed to know.

"Compartment syndrome." Elro breathed to himself, noting that the leg was incredibly tight, and evidently tender and remarkably painful, to be causing such discomfort following the dose of an analgesic. If they were in sickbay, it wouldn't be a risky procedure... As Elro's eyes scanned around him, he realised that the same was not true of the wrecked corridor they were currently holed up in.

With a sigh, Elro breathed some focus into his paracortex and extended his empathy to the crewman on the floor, sensing overwhelming quantities of fear seeping through his body. Elro did his best to extend some modicum of comfort to him, silently presenting him with some telepathic reassurance that the procedure was relatively simple to perform. Of course, he didn't mention anything about severe nerve damage in his telepathic exchange... 

"We're going to have to try and get him to Sickbay..." Elro grimly informed Rhys, turning up to the blonde Human with an apathetic expression. "He is bleeding into one of the fascial compartment's within his leg, which is increasing the pressure in the limb, and will soon start to cut off blood flow to the rest of the limb." The Doctor hurriedly explained to the councillor. "I need to perform an emergency fasciotomy, to cut open the compartment and relief the pressure, which is a relatively simple procedure, but..." Elro paused to glance around again. "This location is far from sterile."

It was truthfully, the best option for the patient. Moving him to sickbay could cause him severe discomfort, alongside the risk of running into Borg, and increasing the duration before the procedure could be performed, increasing the chance of permanent nerve damage. However, should Elro perform the procedure in the corridor, a non-sterile environment, without adequate surgical lighting or equipment, the chances of a contaminant getting into the wound and causing a severe infection, along with necessitating further, more invasive, surgeries, was too great a risk.

"This is going to be very uncomfortable for you... But we need to get you to sickbay." Elro softly told the wounded man, putting a comforting arm on his shoulder and extending some more telepathic comfort to him, before signalling to Rhys to get the man's shoulders, whilst Elro carefully manoeuvred his legs into a comfortable grip that would reduce any pressure on the wounded area.

With a shaky sigh, Elro began to move, sincerely hoping that his decision was the correct one...

[ Y'Lev and Dyan Cardamone/Sar-unga Neleo| Corridors | Deck 7 | USS Theurgy ]

Darling! She got called a darling. Finally he was learning some sort of respect for her beauty. She tossed her hair, staining it red with more blood. Poisons and bioweaponry--entirely useless. If anything, murdering him would’ve been merciful. At least Dyan would not assimilate him, and he’d die with a semblance of honor in Asurian culture.

“Nice threat. At least you have a pair.” She began walking, her back to him once more. She gave him so many openings to attack. Perhaps she was foolish, stupid, inexperienced...or perhaps she was tempting him. Maybe it was as if she was trying to tell him ‘try me.’ Her tail whipped about, her blade ahead of her arm, and her walk alarmingly silent for someone wearing her work boots, she began leading the way.

Y’Lev raised an amused eyebrow at her, glancing down at the floor before throwing up a glorious look of bemusement at her. A curious creature… He watched as she almost silently strutted away, her tail flicking side to side as her blade carried the path before her, like one of those sickeningly heroic ‘holonovel’ characters that Federations were always going on about.

His body count was high enough to allow him to rise above such a daft little comment, his eyes following her as she provided such a tempting target… But no. She was competent enough to handle herself in a fight, and he could not possibly believe she trusted him by any stretch… Therefore, it was a ruse. An invitation to strike at her, only to get gifted with a blade in the gut in return.

Whilst Y’Lev was almost certain he would be quicker, there were no benefits to lunging for it… For one, if he was wrong, he would be laying bisected on the deck. On the other hand, were he right, that certainly made his position weaker… Not only would it mean the crew would start investigating her death, which could cast some doubt on his cover story, but it also meant he didn’t have a bodyguard against the Borg…

Hopefully she’d just get assimilated.

She was walking farther down the hallway. Leading him towards the sounds of battle, of phasers and screaming. ‘You will be assimilated’ echoes down the hallway, and no longer did it strike fear in her. She was not alone.

“Last one to draw blood gives oral.” She cackled, and bolted forward to make sure she would not be the last to draw blood.

“Ugh…” A truly disgusted sound fled his lips as he watched her scamper down the corridor like some sort of demonic cretin. “Assimilation is truthfully more tempting than both of those options…”

----

Violence. If her name was not Dyan, then it was Violence, for there was no gentleness within her. No kindness, no tenderness, nothing that suggested she held empathy for the borg drones or her assimilated brethren. All were to be slaughtered, and the slaughter held some frighteningly arousing joy for her. Though, by the end of the battle, she was too bloodied all over for any wetness of the panties to be seen and she certainly wasn’t foolish enough to begin masturbating right then and there.

She kept Y’Lev nearby. Either she hovered near him, or she’d pull him along, but she made it clear they were a team. Now, as deck 7 was cleared of borg boarders and the medical teams were pouring in, they were finally allowed to relax. Or at least, Dyan was.

As they surveyed the damage, they were standing among the broken drone bodies, the broken spirits that were once crew and officers. Bloodstains, debris, green and red tissue and bodily matter. Once more she reached out to Y’Lev, meaning to grab some hair, just as before.

Y’Lev felt the dirty paw yank at his hair as he wiped his daggers clean of Borg gunk, having taken full advantage of failing force-fields during his dances with drones. His mouth made a hissing noise not so dissimilar from an angered feline, staggering a little with his daggers in grip as he felt himself slightly unbalanced from the intrusion.

“There. That wasn’t so hard, was it? Now, you’re coming with me to security!” She grinned wicked, laughing once more, as if victory was ever-so-certain. “Can’t have little spies like you running free!”

She was truly a wretch in Y’Lev’s eyes, mostly for having a twisted desperation to continually paw at his scalp. Her intentions to hand him over to Security were certainly noble… But he knew as well as she did, that his case was only stronger now than it had been the last time she dragged him into a security team. Y’Lev flicked away his daggers back into their rings and shadowed his face with the most downtrodden look he could muster.

“Please… I’ve done everything you’ve asked… I helped you fight the Borg, I ignored your inappropriate sexual comments to a junior member of the crew...” He put on the full show, whimpering lip and his eyes beginning to brim with sparkling tears. “I know I shouldn’t have gone to the computer core and I-I’m s-sorry and I’ll n-never d-do it a-again…” Y’Lev enhanced his monologue with full on blubbering now.

“I didn’t w-want to do it, but our ship w-was destroyed and we were all so angry… B-but then I s-saw my s-sister on the crew manifest and I knew, I knew this couldn’t be an evil ship like they all think.” He was reaching new levels of pathetic with his monologue, and he absolutely adored it. His mind imagined the look on his bovidae companion’s face and it was a joyous picture. “P-please, I just want to s-see her… I j-just want to find out if she’s o-okay.” He finished with a grandiose sniff, before glancing back up at his captor without any hint of fabrication upon his face.

He put on a great face. If Dyan were not so foolish and stubborn, she would’ve believed him. As it was, she simply took delight in what she saw as sad, pathetic mewling. The look she gave him was one that clearly displayed just how much she enjoyed it. Bedroom eyes would’ve been a polite, yet somewhat inaccurate way to describe it.

“I hope you cry like that when they put you in the brig.” She gleamed, and roughly dragged him along to security, where she imagined he would be brigged, and she would be acclaimed for her excellent detective skills…

- FIN