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Re: CH06 Battle Log: Operation 'Return to Sender' [D03|1340]

Reply #25 –
[PO1 Scruffy LeBlanc | Auxiliary Maintenance Corridor | A-Deck | IKS Ta'Rom ] @Swift @Auctor Lucan

As they reached the turbolift shaft, Scruffy’s passive scans continued to map the ship via its various conduits and systems they passed.  The lack of security on the access hatch was a relief, one which, while by-passable, would have slowed them down.  After swinging onto the service ladder, he tried to keep as low a profile as he could as he climbed down.  It occurred to him as he swung into his first alcove that, although he might have been thin enough to survive the passage of a turbolift car, the equipment he carried would almost certainly get him caught.  There was a brief moment of panic before he caught his breath.  All I have to do is pay attention and I'll be fine.  New ship, new dangers.

Unfortunately, those fears were amplified when one of the security team failed to get to safety.  Scruffy’s own breathing was short, but quiet, and his mind was split between images of the falling body being his and the technical plans he tried to focus on.  Eventually, he reached Deck 4 and pulled himself into the corridor, checking the layout as they neared their first objective.

Pulling himself into the outer section of the secondary computer core, he began a more detailed scan, trying to map the unit in front of him and trace it back along his detailed map to the communications systems.  “Guess this is my turn.”  Climbing into the small access space, he pulled one of the devices he had assembled and nestled it in a crevice.  Pulling his PADD, he checked the software he had set up.  Outgoing communication received, check. Successful transmission signal sent back to source console, check. Communication file replaced with provided data file, check.  Signal changed to broad-spectrum broadcast so more ships receive it, check.  Outgoing signal forwarded to communication array, check.  Leaning back out toward the access corridor, he made eye contact with Fisher, “I’m ready for the data packet.”  After receiving the chip, he reached back and plugged it into the unit.  Using his tricorder to make sure there wasn’t an active signal being sent, he quickly connected his bypass and engaged the program.  “To be safe, I’d like to monitor the unit until the next outgoing transmission, so we know it is working.  But each attempt Gorka makes to contact his fleet should instead put out another bit of incriminating evidence to discredit him, thanks to our wonderful Intel team.”

Re: CH06 Battle Log: Operation 'Return to Sender' [D03|1340]

Reply #26 –
[ Lt. Cmdr. Andrew Fisher | Service Access Corridor | Secondary Computer Core | Deck 04 | IKS Ta'Rom ] Attn: @Auctor Lucan @Stegro88 @Griffinsummoner

Even during the earliest phases of planning, the likelihood of casualties on a mission of this sort had been considered high. To have presumed otherwise would have been outright foolish of someone with Fisher’s history and level of experience with regard to clandestine operations, yet that hadn’t meant that he’d not hoped for a clean run, because of course he had.

Get in. Complete the objective. Get out.

That was the theory. In practice however, acts of sabotage rarely went off without someone paying a dear price in the process, and unfortunately for him, Cabrera simply hadn’t been fast enough, or exhibited the steadiness of approach which was a requisite of survival. Instead, his momentary slip-up had cost him everything as the speeding turbolift cab descended from above and slammed into him at enough of a velocity that it sheered his arms and legs off from where they had been attached to the service ladder. His body crumpling and contorting unnaturally in the tight space between the car and the walls of the shaft as it moved on without any hindrance, no doubt crushing and mangling the poor man’s body into an unrecognizable state. Were it not for the pitch black which went on for quite some distance beneath them, wherein his corpse had fallen, the members of the away team might have born a more direct witness to the carnage that had been wrought. The first thought which had crossed Fisher’s mind, was that at least Cabrera’s death had been a quick one. But the ‘bright-side’ of the sad affair soon gave way to the stark realization of the threat that Cabrera’s death now represented. His body, having fallen down the shaft, would be discovered, it was just a matter of time now, and any thought of recovering it would have been utterly ridiculous given the tight timeframe they were operating under.

“Fuck!” he exclaimed, not necessarily sure of whether he had sworn out of frustration for the man’s passing, or for the tenuousness of their mission now.

Sarcasm had always been something of a shield, a barrier of sorts meant to protect the sage-eyed man from the harrows of loss which had come with working in such a profession, but in truth, these days it was doing little to lessen the internal impact of any deaths which occurred under his command. Forgoing any further commentary on Cabrera’s death, he made sure that each of the remaining members of his team made it into the corridor safely. In the back of his mind, he could hear the moderately repetitive sentiment of a condolences letter that he would now have to pen on behalf of Cabrera. A memory of a time wherein he had been reminded of the importance of a ‘good tale’ for bereaved family and friends to read, so as to know their lost loved one had given his life in the service of something greater than he had been. The bitterness of war and loss had long since tarnished his own sense of sentimentality, which had made such a matter seem almost ludicrous, but he would see it through, and ensure that whoever would be missing Cabrera, understood how his sacrifice had meant the difference between success and failure, even if the details which were relayed might have been exaggerated on his behalf. No one wanted to hear that their son, brother, or husband had died simply because he hadn’t ducked back into a cubby before a descending turbolift grinded him to a pulp.

No. Cabrera would be remembered as a hero, even if he hadn’t necessarily died as one.

Pacing about as LeBlanc began the process of fulfilling his particular role on this mission, Fisher had pulled the holstered phaser pistol from his hip and approached the nearby closed door which led into the main corridor outside. He knew the clock was ticking now, and that at any moment, their presence would be detected. No sense in pretending otherwise, he knew that the fan blades were spinning, and that a big fat steaming pile was just about to hit them. The only thing to do now, was to ensure that neither he, nor any of the others were standing behind it when impact came. “How we looking?” he asked the man, a gloved hand motioning to Keyah to take up a defensive position at the opposite door, likewise ready to act if it became necessary. The question seemed rhetorical, as he understood the Petty Officer to be a capable man, and that his pestering wouldn’t exactly exacerbate the situation in any favorable way. The man, aptly named ‘Scruffy’ would either succeed, or he wouldn’t, and there wasn’t a damned thing that Fisher could do about it. Engineering was far from his strong suit, after all, he was more akin to blowing things up, or assassinating the occasional dirty politician. Hacking computer subsystems in the manner which this mission called for may well have been an impossibility to him.

Thankfully however, fate seemed to take a slight turn in their favor, as after having taken the data packet from Fisher’s care, Scruffy had found some modicum of success, as he had attested to.

“You’ve got five mikes. After that, we need to pull out, regardless of whether or not it’s worked.” They had already lost one man on this endeavor, and now it was time to ensure that no other names found their way onto the butcher’s bill. Yet before he could even begin to countdown the promised five minutes, a sound which filled the spy with utter dread blared with sheer abruptness. Peering about as wall-mounted light panels began to surge with a pulsating crimson hue, the Chief Intelligence Officer knew with absolution that his prophecy of Cabrera’s body being discovered had come to fruition. There had been a wish, however silly it may have been, that said corpse wouldn’t have been found until after the team had begun their exfiltration, or even after they had left the Ta’Rom entirely. With an exasperated sigh, Fisher’s gaze went from Keyah to Scruffy, and then back to the open turbolift shaft access panel just as it snapped shut with a sense of finality. Their route back to the hangar bay was cut off now, as internal security teams would have immediately attempted to seal in any additional spies that they might have thought to be contained within.

“Scrap that, we need to move. Now!” he ordered.

They would need to make the way back to the ‘Apache’ via more traditional means now, a daunting task for even the most battle-hardened of assault teams, let alone an assassin, an engineer, and a lone security officer. The fact that a party of Bat’leth wielding Klingons hadn’t materialized alongside them in the confines of the computer core room, spoke to the efficacy of their Savi sneak suits.

“We’ve got four levels to ascend in order to get back to the hangar bay.” Pulling his tricorder from his hip, he brought up the Negh’Var schematic and highlighted a series of corridors which he intended for them to take. “Left out this door...” he jerked a thumb to the door he’d been guarding an instant earlier “...and fifty meters distance, there’s a gangway we can take. Only problem is, with them likely shutting down turbolifts in this section, we could see some heavier traffic than usual.” Putting the tricorder back into it’s holster on his thigh, Fisher set his phaser level before continuing to speak over the alert klaxons. “No sense in tickling them, set weapons to kill. LeBlanc, you’re behind me. Chief...” he looked to Keyah “...you have our six.” If there had been one additional bit of fortune at play for Fisher, it had been that he’d remembered to bring his trusty bag of tricks for this little trek they were about to undertake. And so, without any additional time to spend giving order, or reassurances for either of his fellows, Fisher tapped the console at the side of the door.

The very instant it snapped open, he raised his weapon and fired point-blank into a pair of armed Klingons just as they had been making their way down the corridor, two ruby-red pulses catching each of them in their chest by complete shock. With a sickening thud, their lifeless bodies hit the deck plating and Fisher stepped over them, tossing a poison gas grenade down in the opposite direction that they’d needed to go.

At about ten meters distance, the grenade burst and began filling the tight corridor with a thick toxic smoke with a sickly green hue. The grenade would visually mask them, as well as make it impossible for anyone to pursue from that direction.

[ Main Corridor | Deck 04 | IKS Ta’Rom ]

“Let’s go!” he ordered back at Scruffy and Keyah, entering the corridor to the left, his weapons raised and firing as he downed a third Klingon that had turned about to come and investigate.


OOC: Some appropriate badass 'theme music' for the fight back to the Hangarbay in the spoiler. ;)
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Re: CH06 Battle Log: Operation 'Return to Sender' [D03|1340]

Reply #27 –
[ Crewman 3rd Class Samala | The Apache | Hanger Bay | IKS Ta’rom | En Route to Qo’noS ] Attn: @Auctor Lucan @Swift @Griffinsummoner
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Samala was about to object to the Petty Officer’s plan, thinking it completely crazy, but she didn’t have a better one and time was running out on their little foray. They had to get back to the Apache before the others did. So, the pilot waited, and watched, as the Terran made his way across the deck, setting a charge before moving on. She was itching to move but knew that if she moved at the wrong time then it would all go bad.

Finally though, Rivard made his move and Samala wasted not a moment as she dashed out and set a charge on the inside of the lower hinge for one of the doors. The Ta’rom’s hanger doors popped outwards slightly before retracting across the hull and this left a slight void between the hinge and armoured door when closed. Her second charge went towards the centre of the door, placed on the deck against the door join. Yeas, it was easily visible if nearby it but there was no better place to leave it.

Samala wanted to place her last charge on the upper hinge but wasn’t able to reach it without climbing, something that would surely get her noticed. Without any other option, Samala was forced to toss the charge up as best she could, praying that the magnet worked and the charge seated itself where she wanted it. The sound of the clump signalling her success was deafening to the hybrid but she had little chance to celebrate as an alarm began to sound throughout the hanger.

Panicking and fearing she had been discovered, Samala turned back to the access hatch in time to see it slam shut. With no other option available, the hybrid looked for the closest place to hide, pulling herself up into the underwing void of a damaged raider. Pressing herself against the hull, her mind began to try and figure out what to do next with only bad options materialising. 

Re: CH06 Battle Log: Operation 'Return to Sender' [D03|1340]

Reply #28 –
[ Petty Officer First Class Jean Paul Rivard | Hangar Bay of the IKS Ta'rom | En Route to Qo'noS ]
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When the alarm blared, Rivard cursed under his breath, eyes darting back ad forth. He told himself to calm down, that the suit he wore - which left little to the imagination and not entirely comfortable about it - dampened his bio reading. Unless they actually saw him, they wouldn't necessarily catch him. Unfortunately, however, the hatch had closed when the Klingon equivalent of an Intruder Alert had sounded, and Rivard had few options. Making himself as small as possible, hunching down by some crates, he looked towards the Crewman and saw that she had yet to be detected too. Damn, we need to get out of this damn fighter bay, now.

He wasn't sure, but he thought the Crewman had managed to set her charges at least, so it was all about getting out of sight, and their task would be complete. They simply needed another maintenance shaft to climb, and try to find their way back to the Apache. Taking deep breaths, relying on his training and not panicking, he looked for another hatch... though they would likely all be sealed. What about a corridor? Closest one was the one behind him, which he had passed before, and from there, they would simply have to improvise somehow...

"Psst, come here. We need to use the door," he whispered loudly enough to reach the ears of the Crewman. "Can't see any other way out of this, unless we try to get through that hatch somehow."

Rivard was on the lookout, hoping no Klingons would venture close to their corner of the bay, while waiting on Samala to either join him in trying the corridor or having some idea of her own.

[ Chief Petty Officer Amlas Keyah | Turbolift Shaft | IKS Ta'Rom | En Route to Qo'noS ]
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Keyah wasn't pleased at all about the development, knowing that it was the damn ex-Devoted and his poor nerves that had screwed up the mission. As instructed, she brought up the rear of the formation as they moved as quickly as possible for the gangways, attempting to reach their single means of escape - the Apache in the deckhead of the bay.

It took them one minute before things turned even more sour.

"I hear footsteps," she supplied through lips thinned in focus and determination, the Klingon search parties afoot in their area of the Negh'var ship. She paused by the intersection they left behind, taking a moment to lean out and gauge the numbers of their pursuers, and within seconds, they fell into view. Four Klingons, running, quickly gaining on them, but they still had the element of surprise. What they didn't have, with the hatches to the maintenance shafts sealed where they currently were, was a means to get out of sight and let the Klingons pass them by. That meant they either had to begin running and hope for the best, or deal with the Klingons...

"Run or shoot them down?" she asked, ready to act on whatever the order might be.

OOC: With Rivard and Keyah being picked for Sabine Crash Site Objective, I seem to have to let them both survive somehow, lol! :)

Re: CH06 Battle Log: Operation 'Return to Sender' [D03|1340]

Reply #29 –
[PO1 Scruffy LeBlanc | Auxiliary Maintenance Corridor | A-Deck | IKS Ta'Rom ] @Swift @Auctor Lucan

Scruffy realized he was out of time when the alarm went off.  He could no longer wait to see if his rigged sabotage would work, he would just have to hope he had done everything right.  He rigged his PADD to send him an alert when the Ta’Rom sent its next message, and slipped it back into its holster.  "So much for the secondary objective."  As the access panel snapped shut, Scruffy began to reach for his tricorder.  Maybe he could hotwire it open?

The decision was made for him as Fisher ordered them out into the corridor.  His breath was coming shorter now that he was back out of his element, but he kept a level head for the moment.  As Fisher gave their marching orders, Scruffy reached for the phaser at his side, checking the setting so it was at least high enough to overcome the standard Klingon armor.

In the rush out the door and down the hall, Scruffy tried to keep his arms raised, phaser in hand, just so the armor and dispersal suit he wore would cover some of his head.  As more Klingons began to emerge from the intersections they passed, Scruffy began to feel more closed in than he ever did in a Jefferies Tube.

Re: CH06 Battle Log: Operation 'Return to Sender' [D03|1340]

Reply #30 –
[ Lt. Cmdr. Andrew Fisher | Main Corridor | Deck 04 | IKS Ta'Rom ] Attn: @Auctor Lucan @Stegro88 @Griffinsummoner

Behind him, Fisher could hear the hiss of the gas grenade he’d thrown, it’s toxic fumes filling the corridor with a noxiousness that could turn even the sturdiest and hardened of Klingon Warriors into little more than mewling lumps as they coughed for air, windpipes stinging as though they were on fire. In fact, he heard just that as it sounds as though a pair of them had been brazen enough to attempt making their way through it. Incapacitated, they would know far more pain than the Klingons that Fisher had dispatched with his phaser, but at least they would survive. It was the only measure of sympathy he would show them in his efforts to lead his team back to the hangar bay, for he knew that to expect any in return was a downright silly notion. No, if caught they would each be beaten, tortured, and mutilated without let or hinderance until they revealed whatever useful information was locked away within their heads. That’s if the Klingons were even in the right mood to forestall death, which was another notion he had little reason to expect, since it was likely tensions and adrenaline was still running at a high in the wake of the battle with Theurgy.

Passing an intersection after clearing both the left and right, he could see the open gangway they were headed for just another ten meters distance. Yet as he neared it, he heard Keyah call out from the rear as she’d picked up on a quartet of hastily encroaching Klingons from the intersection he’d just crossed.

“Chief, take the lead. LeBlanc, stay on her ass.” He ordered, shuffling past the pair of them as he took up the rear now, his free hand rifling through the bag slung over his right shoulder for something in particular. “Move!” he reiterated his command, an instant later his gauntleted hand emerged with a small rectangular device, on its face a sensor nodule, and on its rear a gravitic clamp. Holstering his phaser in one quick move, Fisher punched his right index finger into three consecutive triggers on the face of the device, then slapped it against the upright bulkhead of the intersection corner, where it latched with an almost inaudible hum. An instant later, a green disruptor bolt seared the air as it soared by the left side of his face, splashing against the bulkhead behind him. “P’tahk! You shoot like Romulans!” he hollered out in their general direction, spinning round the corner once more as he looked to rejoin Keyah and LeBlanc, confident that he wouldn’t need to worry about those four Klingons now that he’d riled them up with the kind of insult which would send their blood boiling.

Pulling his phaser once more, he raised it at the ready as without another glance he left the intersection. A few steps later, the cacophonous thump of a Starfleet Claymore detonating echoed down the corridor, it no doubt having eliminated the unsuspecting and aggravated Klingons that had sought to pursue Fisher, Scruffy, and Keyah. The spy felt fortunate he’d not have to witness their bodies, torn and shredded to pieces by thousands of tungsten pellets blasted into them by a few ounces of high-explosive. Flying up a few flights of stairs, bounding three in the single stride, he caught up with his teammates, and their next dilemma. “Well shit!” he exclaimed, the gangway closed off via a retractable bulkhead between Decks 02 and 01. The Klingons were making this difficult, and whoever was manning their security center wasn’t as entirely useless as Fisher had hoped they’d be. Peering out into the corridor on Deck 02, he scoped it out in both directions, and at least for the moment, they weren’t in any immediate danger. But that wouldn’t last. They needed a new route.

[ Gangway Entrance/Exit & Main Corridor | Deck 02 | IKS Ta’Rom ]

“Right.” Pulling up his tricorder, he punched up the schematics of the Negh’var again.

Re: CH06 Battle Log: Operation 'Return to Sender' [D03|1340]

Reply #31 –
[ Crewman 3rd Class Samala | Hanger Bay | IKS Ta’rom | En Route to Qo’noS ] Attn: @Auctor Lucan @Swift @Griffinsummoner
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When a horde of angry Klingons didn’t come storming into the bay, Samala realised it wasn’t she that had set off the alarm. Nor was it Petty Officer Rivard for the same reason, a lack of Klingon reinforcements. “That also excludes the Apache as the cause for the alarm,” Samala noted to herself, unconsciously glancing up at the ceiling where her ship was concealed. “Which means the alarm was caused by the others, or something else is happening and it is an unfortunate coincidence.”

Looking about, Samala noticed that Rivard wasn’t too far away, hiding behind a stack of crates near a closed door. Seeing that he had her attention, the petty officer urged her to join him as he wanted to use the door. Not having a better plan, as well as being the subordinate, Samala glanced around carefully from her hiding spot before she dropped down and slunk across the deck as fast as she was able before diving over the row of boxes and dropping out of sight.

“What are the odds that alarm wasn’t triggered by the others?” Samala asked, reaching out with her telepathy to count the number of minds nearby. It was one of the first skills she had learnt during her active skills training, the ability to sense other minds nearby. There was some risk to it if another telepath was nearby, but Samala felt confident in using it aboard the Klingon vessel. Klingons weren’t exactly known for their psionics. The other downside to the skill was its lack of detail. She could sense the minds, and with experience, even get a rough idea about how far away they were. But what she couldn’t tell, was where they were in relation to the walls and corridors. A mind moving in a straight line could be in a corridor, an access tunnel or in an open room.

“There are two Klingons behind the door,” Samala announced drawing her knife, knowing that what she was saying would raise questions later. “How do you want to do this?”

Re: CH06 Battle Log: Operation 'Return to Sender' [D03|1340]

Reply #32 –
[PO1 Scruffy LeBlanc | Main Corridor | Deck 02 | IKS Ta'Rom ] @Swift  @Auctor Lucan

Scruffy made sure to keep his head down as they made their way through the corridors, though he did pay enough attention to notice when one of those with him revealed less-conventional equipment.  When Fisher caught back up with them, they were cut off from their second escape route.  Before Fisher had the documented schematics pulled up on his tricorder, Scruffy already had his PADD out and his updated power schematics displayed.  He was already tracing the systems and trying to find his own solution.

“Sir, I can offer a couple suggestions,” he spoke up once they were settled, without prompting.  “I can try to hotwire the bulkhead here, but I don’t know how many we’ll have to repeat the process with between here and the hangar.  Not to mention we’re a little exposed.  Alternatively, back down the last intersection is a turbolift and, as luck would have it, the car is sitting at this level.  I know they’ve all been shut down, but I can rig a portable power supply into it and bypass the ship’s power completely.  It should allow us to use it without having to overcome the security lock.  It’ll take a little longer to set up, but we should be able to get right to the hangar deck, and we’ll have a bit more cover while I do so.  One quick hotwire for the door, a bypass for operational power, and we’re on our way.”

Re: CH06 Battle Log: Operation 'Return to Sender' [D03|1340]

Reply #33 –
[ Chief Petty Officer Amlas Keyah | Turbolift Shaft | IKS Ta'Rom | En Route to Qo'noS ]
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Listening to what the engineer said, Keyah had her senses more attuned to any more Klingon search teams coming their way, but she deemed she knew a good plan when she heard one. "No time for a committee of consensus. Just do it, Petty Officer. On the double."

With her eyes fixed in the directions in which more Klingons could appear, feeling how the Savi suit clung like a second skin to her body given the amount of perspiration she'd shed, Keyah was taking deep, slow breaths to control her rampant heartbeat - making her skin more blue than usual. She lost track of the amount of time it took for the Petty Officer to get the turbolift to do as they wanted it to, but eventually, the doors parted, and Keyah backed inside the carriage without looking away from the area they left behind. Just as the doors closed again, there was movement in flashing lights, and she locked eyes with a Klingon. Then, the doors separated them, but she knew they'd been spotted. "Damn it. Now, they will track the carriage... They will know where we get off. We must run as soon as we can to put some distance between us and this death-trap."

So, when the sliding doors parted, Keyah instinctively took point, having made sure to look at the deck layout well enough to know in which direction they ought to run. With her eyes along the sights of her weapon, ready to fire at any moment, she set the pace, and for better or worse, they made it far from the turbolift....

Before a blast door closed behind them - the sound deafening.

They are on to us now, was all she could think, only giving it a glance before setting off again, turning down an intersection to break off from their path and confuse whichever Klingons were tracking them. No more had they changed their direction, however, before the sliding doors at the end of that corridor parted and a search team of six Klingons began shouting and pointing in their direction. "Damn it!"

She squeezed her trigger and began to fire against them - taking out two immediately before falling back. They would have to take cover behind a corner and avoid the incoming disruptor fire, and any moment, another blast door could cut them off. The odds of their survival were plummeting by the moment.

[ Petty Officer First Class Jean Paul Rivard | Hangar Bay of the IKS Ta'rom | En Route to Qo'noS ]
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"Not great," whispered Rivard in answer to Samala when she asked him what the odds were that the intruder alert hadn't been caused by the other half of the away team, his frown cutting a deep furrow between his eyebrows.

He thus knew that time was running out, and they had to get to the Apache lest the entire away team would be compromised. They had secured the means of escape through the bay doors, but to get out of the Ta'rom, they had to be aboard the Reman shuttle. There was simply no other way, so they might just have to shoot their way there. He wasn't entirely sure how the crewman knew how many Klingons there were, but he suspected it had to do with her biological heritage. There wasn't much time to linger on that.

"What I want isn't the question," he murmured to the figure next to him behind the crates. He checked the energy level and setting on his phaser, lips thinned in a grimace. "We have no choice but to get back by any means necessary, and fast. Follow my lead..."

With a quick look out over the expanse of the bay area, to spot any Klingons looking in their direction, he waited for two of them to turn away a little... before heading straight for the door at a brisk pace - phaser in a two-handed grip and lowered in front of himself. After the bay doors opened, he saw the Klingons Samala had sensed. Two of them, sides turned towards them, and he raised his weapon to take aim. He only waited for the sliding doors to close behind him and Samala before opening fire.

"There, another grate to the maintenance shafts. Get it open!"

Re: CH06 Battle Log: Operation 'Return to Sender' [D03|1340]

Reply #34 –
[ Lt. Cmdr. Andrew Fisher | Turbolift Shaft | IKS Ta'Rom ] Attn: @Auctor Lucan @Stegro88 @Griffinsummoner @stardust

One. Two. Three and four.

Fisher’s index finger worked the trigger in rapid succession, the break and reset of the fire actuator just barely tactile enough to register through his gauntleted digit, and though the pulse phaser pistol was limited to a semi-automatic rate, his skill and training with small arms meant that he’d been able to ramp up to near automatic speeds. It was that sustained volley of ruby-red pulses that he’d been able to unleash on a quartet of advancing Klingons, which allowed him to drop them one after the other, ember-like scorches dotting their torso where armor and flesh had been burned away. At near maximum setting, it was clear the spy was taking no chances, and leaving no prisoners as he and his team continued to make their way back to the hangar bay. He wasn’t naïve. He knew the kind of quarter that would have been afforded to him and the others if they were captured, and just how dangerous a Klingon could be in closer proximity, Bat’leths and barbarian like rage working hand-in-hand to skewer Federation intruders.

“Keep moving!” he barked as LeBlanc made mention of a plan to hijack a turbolift. Whatever availed them of movement, and kept them from being penned in, he was willing and ready to adopt it with immediacy.

Keyah had a similar mindset to her too.

Dropping another gas-grenade down into the gangway they’d just ascended to cut that route off from a pack of encroaching pursuers, a toxic-green hastily filling the confines of the stairwell with a cloud of irritating choke, Fisher followed after the Bolian and the Systems Engineer. When he’d reached the carriage car in question, assuming LeBlanc would get to immediate work enacting his plan, Fisher took up a defensive position opposite of the Chief, his weapon trained and firing out into the corridor to keep their enemy pinned back and at a distance. “Work your magic, Mister LeBlanc!” he commented, firing a volley at one Klingon that exposed too much of himself, dispatching him with a final shot that singed away skin, hair, skull, and brain matter, the armored warrior slumping to the ground as he was sent to Gre'thor. Through his gauntlet he could feel the heat of his pistol as internal sinks were struggling to keep up with dissipation, and in fact he could even see the rise of a mirage from the barrel shroud when he aimed. It didn’t matter how very advanced tech was in terms of modern weaponry, the old problems of heat accumulation were never completely solved.

An instant later, the doors to the lift closed and the car ascended the requisite two decks up to A-Deck, and both he and Keylah emerged with pistols at the ready. The Bolian security officer’s concern was a valid one, as the more their movements were homed in on, the more Klingons they would need to fend off. Stopping a few steps behind both Keyah and LeBlanc, Fisher quickly withdrew an explosive charge from the lightening bag of tricks slung around his shoulder, and after arming it, threw it into the carriage they had left. Turning back to advance on his fellows, the charge detonated with an ear-shattering boom that tore and distorted the shape of the shaft housing, making it impossible for anyone to make use of that particular turbolift. ‘When your enemies are hot on your heels, time to burn bridges.’ He remembered being taught. With that path behind them now thoroughly truncated, the spy picked up his foot pace in an effort to rejoin the team. They were getting so very close now, and as he spun back around to check the rear of their escape, he could almost smell and taste the bourbon seared steak he was planning on cooking for Sam upon his return to Theurgy.

At least, until a blast door slammed shut with a harrowing authority between himself, and the others.

Unfortunate as he was that he was now cut off, he was fortunate to not have been even half-a-step faster, as the door would have likely crushed and mangled his body. “Shit!” he exclaimed, a gloved hand pressing against the cold duranium barrier. Without hesitation he ran over to the control panel at the left of the door and began punching at it’s input to try and trigger an override, but the readout on the screen displayed clearly that controls had been locked out by Security. The Klingons were starting to get better at this whole chase and capture thing, and at the most inopportune moment he realized. Without any other option, he activated open-comms, knowing that they could be further tracked and intercepted by his pursuers. “Fisher to Keyah, this door isn’t opening anytime soon.” Looking back down the corridor, he could hear bootsteps echoing after him. Hastily his hand plucked the tricorder from his waist and recognized an alternative route back to the hangar bay that was still open. “I’ve got another route. Get yourself and LeBlanc back, and prep for immediate exfil. Fisher out!” he closed comms, re-holstered the tricorder, and raised his weapon once more.

“pa'! bIjatlh 'e' yImev.” Bellowed one of a trio of Klingons, pointing at the momentarily delayed spy.

One. Two. And...

Grunting in pain when his index finger was contorted and nearly broken as his pistol was smacked aside by a swung Bat’leth, the phaser skittering against deck plating, Fisher had no moment of respite in which he could focus on recovering his primary weapon. Instead, he closed the gap with the last of the trio, shouldering him against the bulkhead with every ounce of his strength he could muster. His foe was big though; taller, and heavier by far. While that meant he was stronger, it meant Fisher was faster, and with his left hand finding the handle of the carbide-steel combat knife, he quickly slashed the right side of his assailant’s throat, drawing thick globules of crimson blood. Yet, the Klingon did not falter, rather he braced against the bulkhead and pushed until he fell atop of Fisher as the two of them went down to the decking in a heap. His armor helped to absorb at least some of the heft of the massive warrior landing on him, but the spy still felt the crunch of ribs within his chest as they were cracked. The shock of pain, combining with a sudden forced exhale might have staggered an untrained fighter, costing him his life, but Fisher’s instincts served him well in the moment as his left arm moved almost without direct input, plunging the knife into the side of the Klingon’s torso, over, and over again until the threat was alleviated.

Pushing the hulking warrior off of him, his face splotched with crimson that had sprayed against it when he’d slashed the throat, Fisher took only the faintest of moments to try and regain his breath. His vision was blurred slightly, and the right side of his torso ached immensely, yet he still forced himself back to his feet, fighting off a fit of coughing as he scrambled to recover his pistol from where it had landed. Knife re-sheathed, and his bag-of-tricks re-slung over his shoulder, he raised his weapon at the ready once more, and began taking long strides which led him back down the corridor, and further away from the hangar bay. Gradually, the blurred edges in his vision began to clear, and just in time as he rounded a corner in the direction of the port-side of the ship, spotting the periphery edge of a group of Klingons as they were storming down a connecting corridor. With alacrity, Fisher ducked into an exposed stanchion just before the Klingons made their turn in his direction, avoiding immediate detection. The only problem now, was that this massive group, no doubt sent to reinforce the trio he’d just dispatched, were now directly between him and his escape route.

Worse still, they seemed to be advancing at a far slower pace, taking some care and practice as they came upon the bodies that Fisher had just left for them. For a second, he hoped that maybe they might open the blast doors, and give him a straight on approach once more, instead however, they milled about. They were searching for him, and he was just barely hidden from sight, but not for long under these circumstances.

Time was running short.

Knowing he couldn’t delay the escape of the others any longer, Fisher quietly retrieved a pair of grey cannisters from his bag, emblazoned on each of them the seal of the Cardassian Union. With steady breaths meant to quell the rapidly beating heartbeat in his bruised and aching chest, he depressed the actuator on both cannisters and tossed one in either direction of the corridor. It didn’t take long for the Klingons to grunt in reaction to the sound of the two metallic objects rolling about in their midst, but those grunts soon gave way to waling and screams of terror and agony as the cannisters erupted. Plumes of scorching white-hot burning phosphorus that seared through armor, flesh, and bone alike consumed a bulk of the group, and Fisher soon stepped out amidst them his phaser pistol leveled and firing into any of them which stood between him and his path to the opposite side of the hangar bay.

“Fisher to away team. If I’m not there in three-minutes, complete exfil without me. That’s an order.”


OOC: Some more music for the background.
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Re: CH06 Battle Log: Operation 'Return to Sender' [D03|1340]

Reply #35 –
[ Crewman 3rd Class Samala | Hanger Bay | IKS Ta’rom | En Route to Qo’noS ] Attn: @Auctor Lucan @Griffinsummoner @Swift
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“At least he isn’t one to shy away from doing what must be done when it needs to be,” Samala noted to herself as Petty Officer Rivard strode headlong into the room, his phaser at the ready. Samala ducked down as she followed and stepped through the door a moment after Rivard. Even as the door shut, she caught movement beyond it and knew that they had been seen. “Of course we were spotted.”

She didn’t have long to muse though as Rivard shot both of the Klingons before they had a chance to react to their entry. As their bodies slumped to the deck lifelessly, Rivard pointed out the grate they needed to use to get to the maintenance shaft and told her to get it open.

“One moment,” Samala said, stepping to the side of the door and drawing her knife from its sheath. She could sense the approaching mind, a Klingon’s, and had already calculated that it would be best to dispose of him before trying the grate. Holding her blade loosely, just as she had been trained, Samala readied herself.

The door slid open, and the Klingon entered, saying something in his guttural native tongue. Samala couldn’t see his face, didn’t really want to either. Instead, she focused on her target, the soft portion of the underside of the head, inside the jaw. With a single swift motion, her hand arched up and drove her knife up and into the Klingon’s brain. His speech stopped and his body went limp. The hybrid allowed it to fall forward as the door shut, pulling her knife free as the corpse descended.

“Grate, on it,” Samala acknowledged, stooping to wipe her knife clean before heading for the grate. It was an access grate, more used for the airflow rather than the allowance or personnel movement, but with a few swift tugs it yielded to her enhanced strength. As she set it to the side, a voice crackled and Samala struggled to hear what it was saying.

“Was that Fisher?” she queried, turning to look at Rivard. “What did he say?”

Re: CH06 Battle Log: Operation 'Return to Sender' [D03|1340]

Reply #36 –
[PO1 Scruffy LeBlanc | Main Corridor | A-Deck | IKS Ta'Rom | En Route to Qo'noS] Attn: @Auctor Lucan  @Swift 

Scruffy dashed out the turbolift, head tucked low between his raised arms, between Keyah and Fisher.  In one hand he had his phaser at the ready and in the other he held his PADD, following their progress through his deckplan.  The closer they got to the hangar, the more detailed his diagrams became, as he had already collected scans on their way into the ship.  He took shots as the opportunity presented itself, but most of them ended up burning into bulkheads or glancing off armor in his haste.  He flinched when he heard the turboshaft detonation, turning around long enough to reassure himself that Fisher was still on their tail.

Which gave him a front-row seat as the blast door slammed down, splitting their party again.  Immediately Scruffy crouched near the intersection of the blast door and the bulkhead, his phaser quickly holstered for his engineering tricorder.  He was already tracing power conduits, hoping he could find a way to reverse the mechanism, when he heard Fisher’s open broadcast.  Scruffy acknowledged the alternate route, and realized that it would be faster than trying to force open the blast-door, especially if any more blast-doors dropped in the meantime.  Shutting his tricorder, he tried to find assurance in Fisher’s confidence of meeting them in the hangar.  After quickly locking eyes with Keyah, he pulled his phaser again and resumed their rush.  “You know the shuttle is probably still on the ceiling, right?  We’re going to have to get out of the main corridor to get back to the access level.”

Re: CH06 Battle Log: Operation 'Return to Sender' [D03|1340]

Reply #37 –
[ Chief Petty Officer Amlas Keyah | Turbolift Shaft | IKS Ta'Rom | En Route to Qo'noS ]
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When the blast door rammed down behind her and LeBlanc, Keyah hadn't been sure if Commander Fisher survived, so when she heard his voice over comms - having set herself to defend the engineer while he worked on the door - she was both relived and galvanised to complete the mission.

"This is Chief Keyah, understood," she fired off while beginning to move again. The Petty Officer's remark about the Apache's placement was already on her mind, but she nodded in confirmation. "Yes, and that should also be the way Fisher gets there. Perhaps we'll rendezvous with him on the way to the shuttle."

At least she hoped so, knowing that the odds wouldn't be good for someone on their own, but she had faith in the spy's experience. If anyone were to make it back to the shuttle on their own, whilst being chased by Klingons every step of the way, he would be a definite candidate for the challenge. As for her and the engineer, she would do her best, hoping that they'd reach an excess point close enough to allow them to reach the shuttle the same way they'd come.

They ran for less than a minute before another search party appeared in an intersection that they were passing by, yet the grate to the maintenance access was just ten meters away. "There," she called to LeBlanc and pressed her back against the corner of the intersection. "Get it open!"

Then, she leaned out from the corner and took aim, firing away at the search party. She got two of them in her first volley, before she had to duck back behind cover again. She crouched down, mouthed a Bolian saying about making the most of life since you could do naught when dead, and leaned out again - firing from a lower position. She took out two more before the last two managed to adjust their aim, at which point she ducked back once more. The shoulder of her infiltration suit got singed by a disruptor, but she was still breathing - her cobalt blood pumping hard through her veins. The third time she stepped out, she didn't remain by the wall, keeping herself mobile, and the Klingons were right on top of her at that point.

Her first beam cut into a Klingon neck, and she had to raise her rifle to catch the swing of the last Klingon's bat'leth. By sheer instinct, she dropped the rifle, letting it clatter against the wall and the deck as it was ripped out of her hands. She heard herself make some kind of noise, her throat feeling raw, but she pulled her pulse phase pistol at her hip and fired straight into the attacker's torso. Multiple times... until the beast went down. She was shaking afterwards, the adrenaline coursing through her, and she took a deep breath to steady her nerves.

I'm still alive. Keyah swallowed down some rising bile and went to the Petty Officer without a word, and once the grate was open, she climbed inside, heading for the Apache.

[ Petty Officer First Class Jean Paul Rivard | Hangar Bay of the IKS Ta'rom | En Route to Qo'noS ]
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"He said to get out of here in three minutes even if he doesn't make it to the Apache," Rivard answered, having his weapon raised and looking down both ends of the corridor they were in to make sure there were no more attackers while Samala got their access point open. "My guess is that he got cut off from the rest of his team, or they are already dead..."

There was no time to linger, so when the grate was open, Rivard took point and made as quick progress as he could through the ventilation shaft - or whatever it was they found themselves in. Knowing the general direction towards where the Apache was at, Rivard headed there, and ignored the way the klaxons on the Ta'rom sounded so foreboding. They had a means for escape, as long as they could get back to the shuttle, and with the charges set, they could still make it off the Klingon ship alive.

Thankfully enough, while only having to backtrack their climb once since he made a wrong turn, Rivard emerged into the same accessway that he and Samala had been in before, and they could make it back to Petra Vansen on the Apache. His fellow Security officer was on her feet, clearly alert to the pressing situation, and she almost made a move to hug him when he entered the shuttle. She didn't, clearing her throat and looking away, and Rivard had to check if there were others alive before Samala would detonate the charges and get the Apache out of the bay. "Rivard to..."

He got no farther, before Amlas Keyah appeared as well, swinging down through the airlock and stepping inside the craft's aft compartments. "One more minute, then we take off," she said, since with Fisher gone, she was the highest ranking officer present. "Crewman Samala, power this thing up and get ready to blast our way out. Hopefully we'll make a clean escape. Let's just hope the Commander makes it back in time..."

Re: CH06 Battle Log: Operation 'Return to Sender' [D03|1340]

Reply #38 –
[ Lt. Cmdr. Andrew Fisher | Turbolift Shaft | IKS Ta'Rom ] Attn: @Auctor Lucan @Stegro88 @Griffinsummoner

The window for exfil was hastily closing on Fisher, who sprinted along a lengthy corridor that ran perpendicular to the hangar bay from one side of the ship to the other. Heavy boot falls echoed back after him in a staccato which barely matched the alacritous beat of the heart bounding away within his chest, all while every muscle inside each of his strong legs burned as though they were saturated with battery acid instead of blood. Just making it to the opposite side of the Ta’Rom had cost him nearly a third of his self-imposed deadline, and he still needed to ascend the stairwell which would take him to the upper level of the hangar. It would be close, but theoretically he had just enough time to make back in time for escape, that is, barring any major interference from the unending tide of Klingons which were pursuing him. As he reached the base of the passageway though, he found himself growing increasingly confident that he could and would make it after all, as it seemed to be entirely devoid of obstacle.

Some luck maybe?

Taking deep breaths which did little to assuage the effects of exhaustion that were beginning to besiege him, Fisher climbed several steps with each long stride until he emerged unto a platform which served as a control room and looked out on the hangar beyond. He could even see a member of the away team, Rivard probably, dropping down into the still-cloaked vessel which hung upside down. “I’m just about there!” Fisher announced through the active comms, moving over to where a hatch would give him access to a gangway that ran just close enough to the Apache that he could conceivably make a short leap to the open and waiting ramp. In the back of his mind, Fisher could almost taste the spoils of his planned dinner with Rutherford, as confidence began to settle in. This had worked. This crazy insane plan had worked, maybe not without the loss of a comrade, but in the end Cabrera’s sacrifice would have been worth it, as they were about to turn the tide of this whole internal strife among the Klingons around in their favor.

So close now.

“Is everyone else aboard the--” about to check on the status of the rest of the team, Fisher stepped ever closer to the hatch when he heard footsteps from behind, only just managing to dip his head out of the way of a swung bat’leth which had clearly been meant to decapitate.

Pressing his pistol to the stomach of his attacker, Fisher squeezed the trigger in rapid succession, instantly burning a series of holes through him as thick globules of crimson blood splattered against the bulkhead behind. The first Klingon dropped to the decking in a heap, only for a second to surge forward in his stead, a mek’leth swinging in a wide arc which caused Fisher to dive and roll away from the hatchway. Sprawling along the platform, he spun round on his back and raised his weapon to fire only to have it swatted away by the bladed weapon. His hand stung, but he had no time to focus on that added pain as his assailant lunged atop of him, attempting to plunge the mek’leth into his chest. Grunting as his aching ribs crunched beneath the added weight of the Klingon, Fisher clutched tightly at his opponent’s wrists, desperate to stave off an imminent death. A thought to reach for his own knife came to mind, but there was simply no way he could realistically get to it and keep his enemy at bay.

“--nnngh! Apache! G--” he grunted, very much aware that the seconds were hastily counting down on him.

The Klingon groaned and hissed as he pushed with all his might, the blade drawing nearer to piercing through the left side of Fisher’s chest. Shuffling his weight just enough beneath the heavy warrior, the spy managed to evade the initial stab attempt as his strength failed him. Angrily, the Klingon snarled as his mek’leth stuck itself two or three inches deep into the metal deck plating and wedged there. There was no respite though, as the Klingon immediately moved to grab a D’k tahg knife from where it had been sheathed at his side, giving Fisher just enough of a chance to reach for his own knife, and parry a dis-coordinated lunge at him. On the return, the spy slashed across the throat of the Klingon, causing blood to heavily spray down onto his face as the warrior gradually went limp. With ragged breath, Fisher shoved the dead lump off of him and scrambled back to his feet. Was there still time? He had to move if there was, but before he could even take a step something had clutched at his ankle.

Tripped up, Fisher dropped to his hands and knees and saw that the first Klingon hadn’t yet succumbed to the wounds blasted through his midsection, instead he had latched onto Fisher with one bloodied hand, while the other was clutching at a Klingon pulse grenade.

“Heghlu'meH QaQ jajvam!” The control room exploded in a green fireball.

A second later, down on the main flight deck, Fisher landed hard on his back, ears ringing and his world spinning about him as he had somehow just barely cleared the radius of the explosion when it had gone off. Though he hadn’t been spared entirely, as he had been thrashed by the shockwave and tossed violently as he tumbled down the stairwell. All around, he heard dozens of encroaching steps as they drew nearer.

“...Go!” coughing as he was surrounded, everything soon went black as boot met his forehead.
 

Re: CH06 Battle Log: Operation 'Return to Sender' [D03|1340]

Reply #39 –
[ Crewman 3rd Class Samala | Hanger Bay | IKS Ta’rom | En Route to Qo’noS ] Attn: @Auctor Lucan @Griffinsummoner @Swift
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Turning the last corner in the tunnel, Samala saw the opening ahead that would lead down to the Apache. Rivard’s confirmation and explanation of what Commander Fisher had said rang in her ears as she shimmied across to the shaft and began climbing down. At the bottom, she lowered herself out of the roof, hanging for a moment from the bottom rung of the ladder before swinging herself forward and over, inverting herself just as she entered her ship’s gravity field. Within it, her feet were pulled to the deck of the ramp and she regathered herself, looking at the Ta’rom’s hanger deck, from her perspective, over her head.

"Crewman Samala, power this thing up and get ready to blast our way out. Hopefully we'll make a clean escape. Let's just hope the Commander makes it back in time..." came Chief Keyeh’s

“Understood,” Samala acknowledged, darting into the Apache. She ran the length of the ship, not stopping to discard any of her equipment until she fell into the pilot’s chair and spun around to face the console. Bringing the ship’s systems to standby, she heard Fisher announce that he was almost there and movement through the forward canopy drew her attention. Below her, she caught sight of Fisher in what she believed was the control room for the hanger. And he was fighting. He spoke again but his words were cut off as Samala saw that he was tackled to the deck. 

She sat there, hands hovering over her controls as she watched the Terran struggle with the Klingon. Then it was over, as Fisher rose to his feet, his face covered in the fallen Klingon’s blood. But something was wrong, he stopped and looked down. And then the room exploded outwards with Samala barely catching sight of the Terran’s body being flung through the air to the hard, unforgiving deck of the hanger below it. She wanted to shout to the others behind her to go and get him but a ragged, coughing voice echoed across the silent com channel.

“...Go!”

Klingons were beginning to pour into the hanger, beginning to put out the fires from the explosion as well as moving equipment out of the way while another contingent surrounded the body of Commander Fisher. Her sensors told her he was alive, if only just, but as more and more warriors flooded in, Samala knew she had to obey his final order, as much as it railed against her very nature. Steeling herself, she remotely activated the ramp controls, sealing the ship as she brought the Apache to full readiness. A memory flash of Bacury III danced before her eyes and she snarled, blinking it away as she powered up her disruptor arrays. They had to leave but she was going to make sure that they remembered that they had been there.

With her tactical systems ready, Samala dropped the cloak and disengaged the maglocks, smiling wickedly at what she thought the Klingons would be thinking at her appearance within the hanger. But she gave them no time to react as she triggered her disruptors, scything into clusters of warriors, fighters, shuttles and even the walls as she spun and rolled the Apache around to face the doors. An explosion on the port side of the hanger, bigger than the rest, let her know that she had hit something important with confirmation coming in a moment later as she registered that the Ta’rom was dropping out of warp. Now was their chance.

“BLOW THE CHARGES!” she shouted, hoping someone had heard her. Nothing happened for an instant and she was about to yell again when the hanger bay in and around her erupted into fire as explosive devices detonated. The main doors rippled, one of them being completely blown off of its hinges thanks to her charge placements. It was now or never. Shutting down her disruptors, she shunted the power to her shields to reinforce them from the beating that the explosions, and largely ineffective Klingon small arms fire, had strained them. That done, she fired up her thrusters to guide them through the damaged opening. 

Once clear of the doors, Samala engaged her cloak and the Apache disappeared into the void like an assassin into shadow. Their mission, she didn’t know if it had been a success or not, but she was alive and the bulk of the team was with her. Sighing, she closed her eyes for a moment in silent thanks to Commander Fisher before plotting a course back to the Theurgy and jumping into warp herself.

~FIN~


OOC: Escape Inspiration. [Show/Hide]
 
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