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Topic: CH02: S [D01|2147] Incipient Sabotage (Read 262 times) previous topic - next topic

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CH02: S [D01|2147] Incipient Sabotage

CHAPTER 02: SUPPLEMENTAL [DAY 01| 2147 HRS.] INCIPIENT SABOTAGE



[ "Bekas, son of Bragt" | Spearhead Lounge | Deck 14 | Vector 01 | USS Theurgy ]
[Show/Hide]
After two years of hiding in the shadows, Rov - or rather Bekas - had thought he'd be more thrilled about the hour.

Gone were the brief glory of the Klahb group, and how far they had come in their ambition of ending the current travesties of the Empire. He'd spent two years in hiding after they destroyed the base on Pheben V, and like he did right then - drinking bloodwine among Klingons who had no idea who he was - he oft thought of his broadcast, wondering how many that he'd reached agreed with him. Agreed, in that the Federation was stripping the Empire of its identity and calling. Enough had heard him, it seemed, since right then - aboard the USS Theurgy renegade ship - he was using his new name and face to further the same cause he did back then. What had amused Rov, however, when he received his instructions, was the manner in which Gorka, and Kopek were aligned to a certain point, but they had far different ideas about why Rov would heed Martok's call for volunteers. In fact, only Kopek knew his real name between the two.

In the end, it hardly mattered, because he knew why he was right in the midst of the 200 companions, and it certainly had nothing to do with concern about the ghuy'cha' Khitomer Accords, and trying to remove Martok because because he was violating them in his alliance with the renegade ship. QI'yaH! This wasn't about the Theurgy at all. It was just too convenient an excuse, one used to finally dishonour Martok and have a legit claim against his continued chancellery. It mattered far more who'd take his place, and between Gorka and Kopek, Rov knew who'd serve the Empire best.

Silently, Rov listened and learned, heard of the feat in which the Theurgy had put sixty light-years behind itself in a mere hour. Knowing that Gorka was on his way towards Qo'nos as well, this revelation had forced him to change his plans. Evidently, this new Hu'tegh propulsion system needed some manner or recharge, and it would take over thirty hours before the multi-vector dreadnought might repeat that feat. He might not have access to the drive system for the time being, but as he sat there in the crowded lounge... he did see an opportunity he just couldn't ignore.

He might not be able to destroy the means in which the Theurgy might reach Qo'nos ahead of Gorka, not yet. But as he watched the table not too far away, he knew that in one stroke, he could reduce the chances of being caught, disrupt the chain of command on the Theurgy, and affect the female that was allegedly operated the propulsion system. He simply had to settle for soft, squishy targets, since right then, they numbered high, and were very close together.

Making Martok a martyr isn't ideal, but if the Theurgy get to Qo'nos too fast, that might be my last resort... Rov didn't raise his eyes to search for the surveillance units in the deckhead. He'd already spotted them. He watched the motions of the crowded lounge, and anticipated when some of the Qovpatlh companions rose from their table to get more bloodwine. He slipped the nacreous sphere into his calloused palm, one of many her kept, and rose from his chair with his mug in hand. He grinned and joined a song that had spontaneously sprung from three tables down the row he walked.

'ej HumtaH 'ej DechtaH 'Iw
'ej Doq SoDtaH ghoSpa' Sqral bIQtIq
'e' pa' jaj law' moch jaj puS
jaj qeylIS molar mIgh HoHchu'qu'

He laughed, but for very different reasons than his fellow Klingon in the lounge, and in passing, he let the sphere fall from his hand and into the mug of a fellow companion he passed by. He looked him in the eye, the song reaching its crescendo, and Rov realised he didn't know the Bekk's name. Not that he cared. He was surrounded by Martok loyalists, so they were all taHqeq. He was still moving down the row of tables, and knew how far he had to walk together with those who sought to refill their mugs of bloodwine. He knew, from instructions, how many seconds he had, and kept the tally in his head. He knew not what the sphere was made of, but he knew what it did eventually, when dissolved into liquid, and that he would have to weather the storm in order to remain hidden in the midst of the companions.

So Rov waited for the holographic staff to serve him by the bar, and leaned against the counter. He couldn't help himself to glance in the direction of his targetted table, however, and from afar, he met the eyes of the Theurgy's First Officer.

A mere happenstance glance, perhaps, but he kept himself from grinning, seeing the Bekk with the mug right behind the ignorant human. Seated with the Executive Officer was the Chief of Security, a large human that Rov had kept tabs on since he came aboard. The one he'd been observing rather well, Khorin Douglas, was present too, likely betraying his House by talking about Gorka. There were other Starfleet officers present in the close vicinity as well, ones of lesser concern, but whom would suffer the same fate as their First Officer and the two seated with him. Perhaps more importantly, however, was the First Officer's pale wife, and how she - while not present - would certainly not oversee the Theurgy's new propulsion system anytime soon.

And the blood was ankle deep.
And the River Skral ran crimson red.

Even though Rov knew what would happen, he still wasn't prepared when the fiery detonation came.

It fed on the recycled air in the lounge and tore its way through Klingon and Starfleet bodies alike. Rov was pushed over the counter of the bar by the shockwave, and he was bathed in broken glass and bloodwine. The screams followed, and then the shouting. At least the pain kept him from smiling.


OOC: This group thread is open for anyone affiliated with the incident, be it in terms of being injured or helping the victims. Beam them to sickbay so that they might be put into stasis in wait for surgery. Besides 7 Klingons loosing their lives, here are the characters affected. Keep the details of the injuries sustained vague in your posts, and if a character is dead instead of on the brink of death, I will mention it in the list: [Show/Hide]
These victims were not all seated by one table, but close to the detonation in some way. The list might be updated as needed, to add more characters when applicable. As for the bomb itself, nothing substantial can be known of it just yet, but the pearl-like thing contains a substance innocuous on internal sensors because of its casing, which when dissolved allows the content to react to liquid.

Lastly, Rov is not to be caught in this thread, remaining unknown.
  • Last Edit: July 14, 2020, 11:05:07 PM by Auctor Lucan

  • Swift
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Re: CH02: S [D01|2147] Incipient Sabotage
Reply #1
[ Lt. Cmdr. Andrew Fisher | Spearhead Lounge | Deck 14 | Vector 01 | USS Theurgy ]

This may well have been the longest day of Fisher's life.

It might have also been one of the most disheartening he'd experienced in quite some time. So much bad had happened, and so much more had gone wrong that he was having doubts as to whether or not fate had anything left in the bag to throw his way; if there were still yet any variations of 'the curve' that he hadn't seen in this day of days.

In the course of less than 24-hours, Paris had been laid to waste, the Romulans had declared war on the Federation, further plans to expand the scope of the war had been revealed, and a potentially blooming friendship had been damaged, perhaps even beyond repair. Further confounding things, the one person he'd hoped might have something to go on, had offered little more than a vague promise of more information later on. Fisher had little faith in Alarak; as what trust had existed between them, had long since expired due to a past betrayal that cost Fisher his position as an Operational lead. It no longer mattered what protestations he'd made about wanting to work together to preserve the peace, or how much sympathy he offered on his own behalf for the lives lost. Hell, as of this morning, they were now rival spies on opposites sides of a battle line, and though they'd cooperated in the past, that had been during times of relative peace.

Now resigned to the exhaustion of the day, Fisher only wanted to forget his mounting sorrows, so that he could maybe get some sleep before another arduous day began in a few short hours. As such, he'd rekindle a tradition almost as old as human history itself. If his demons were so determined to taunt him unrelentingly, then he'd drown them in whisky, as he was now fixated on drinking himself half to death. Synthol offered the benefit of mitigating the typical hangovers associated with alcohol consumption, though in the moment, Fisher felt like he could have used a good hangover. Or at least that he deserved one.

But as Fisher exited the turbolift on Deck 28, he stopped after just two steps, remembering the last night he'd spent in the lounge. His eyes closing for a moment as he stifled the surfacing memory of a single cold drop of water against the back of his hand. Turning back before the lift doors closed, he decided he needed to be somewhere that wouldn't add to the distressing realities already running laps in his mind. At Thea's recommendation, he was redirected to the Officer's lounge on Deck 14, Fore. Aptly named 'the spearhead lounge', Fisher emerged from the turbolift and immediately heard the roaring cheer and boisterous voices of Klingon warriors. It'd been a small selection of the entourage that had accompanied Martok, and they'd assumed a dominating presence in the lounge. It was perfect, Fisher realized as he approached the doors to the lounge, as their loud brambling would drown out his ability to think, and he could simply drink in a strangely relative peace.

In fact, a moment later he'd settled in rather nicely at the far end of the bar.

He'd of course offered a nod of respect toward Commanders Ducote and Akoni, as well as Lieutenant Douglas. Khorin Douglas. Fisher remembered that he'd still needed to follow up on a one-on-one interview with the Klingon Security Officer at some point, though now hadn't seemed like the opportune moment. Fisher didn't wish to intrude on their conversation, nor had he any interest in the company of others. As a steward approached, harassed mightily by the gaggle of Klingons hovering around the bar, Fisher ordered an Irish Whisky, neat. Though, the steward barely made it a step before Fisher called him back, and instead requested he replicate a bottle of the Whisky, so that the Intelligence Officer could then pour his own refills. There was a subsequent hesitation on the part of the steward, who attempted to explain that it was against lounge policy, but an intimidating glare from Fisher's green eyes cut him short.

"Bah! Run little man! Fetch his drink!" blurted out a deep voice from behind Fisher, followed by an uproarious bout of laughter. "The silly little man needs to raise less concern with drink orders, and just carry out his duty, bringing warriors like us, what we demand..." the Klingon shifted so as to shout down and over the bar. "...when we demand it!" he added and laughed a second time as the steward looked back with a frightened nod.

Turning to peer over his shoulder at the Klingon, Fisher had been about to tell him to lay off, but instead grinned broadly as he recognized him.

" 'bIpIv'a " barked Kaban, in his native tongue. The Klingon Bekk had been one of two assigned to watch over Fisher during his travel aboard the IKS Vor'Nak. A manifest glitch, or someone's idea of a cruel joke, had listed Fisher as a 'VIP', and not to be harmed in any kind. As a result, he'd spent the entirety of the journey confined to his modest estate room.

" jIpIv' bIpIv'a "  Fisher retorted as he stood to his feet, turning to face him.

" jIpIv' " Kaban then completed the turn of phrase, himself amused and impressed by the human's correct pronunciation. They shared a grin, only to aggressively embrace forearms in a sign of mutual respect. "I wondered if you'd recognize me, Mr. Lynch, was it?" Kaban asked in Federation standard, an inquisitive, yet clearly playful look in his face as he raised an eyebrow.

"It's Fisher, actually." The CIO admitted as they released the fraternal greeting.

After taking a deep swig of his tankard of blood wine, Kaban regarded Fisher for a short moment, and shook his head apologetically. "My apologies. Had I known you were of such rank, and collar pigment." He referred to the red undershirt, and gold pips adorning Fisher's uniform. During his voyage to Theurgy, the spy had traveled under the guise of a civilian, and therefore hadn't donned any kind of hint to his actual nature as a Starfleet Officer. "I might have even let you explore more than just the confines of your estate." The Klingon laughed again as he recalled the numerous occasions in which Fisher had tried to bargain and negotiate his way out of said estate. "Or perhaps if you were a better diplomat." He teased, not realizing how the tease had stung Fisher, given one of the things running through his head.

With a sigh, Fisher shook his head in amusement. "Don't worry about it." His tone of voice was meant to disarm and reassure the Bekk that he hadn't taken any of what had happened aboard the Vor'Nak to heart. It was simply the result of a misunderstanding, in Fisher's mind at least. "Is Torvok aboard? Did he get assigned as part of the Chancellor's entourage?" Fisher asked, wondering if the other Klingon Bekk had made the journey, the two of them having constituted both of his guards.

"He did!" Kaban responded brashly, downing the rest of his blood wine with a few large gulps, before wiping away a few drips from his mouth with the back of his gauntleted hand. "Though, when I last saw him. He was chasing after a Bajoran woman; one of your crew." His hand motioned in reference to all the other Starfleet Officers and Crewman that were spread throughout the lounge. "I think his intentions are..." he hesitated, shrugging his shoulders as if to let the rest of the unsaid words be spoken through another means.

Fisher nodded in understanding, as his attention was stolen by the returning steward.

As the steward set the bottle of Irish Whisky down on the counter, Kaban took a grasp of it in examination, raising a curious eyebrow. "Is this what a human warrior, such as you, drinks?"

Carefully co-opting the bottle away from the Klingon's hands, Fisher uncorked its top before pouring into the glass tumbler left by the steward, nearly filling it. "It's an Irish Whisky." Fisher explained, realizing that though the universal translator would make it so that Kaban understood what a Whisky was, there was likely no context for 'Irish' in the Klingon vocabulary. "Ireland's a particular land on Earth. This distilled spirit, is aged in wooden barrels." Taking the tumbler, Fisher took a nice healthy drink of the smooth liquor and savored the familiar burn as it ran down his throat, settling in his stomach.

Nodding in understanding, Kaban slammed his empty tankard down onto the counter. "Pour!" he abruptly instructed Fisher, only to be obliged.

"Well?" Fisher asked, as Kaban had without any hesitation quickly up-ended his tankard, downing the modest amount that had been poured for him.

There was a consideration in the big Bekk as he thought it over, then nodded in apparent approval. "Were it not for the synthol..." he paused to set his tankard back onto the counter, the implication clear as Fisher poured him another. "...I'd say it's worthy of a warrior!" Kaban downed the second offering, before slamming his tankard down once more. "You!" he blurted out at the steward. "Another Blood Wine! Quickly!" the order startled the young steward, and the other Klingons milling about had noticed and began to laugh. "Do you wish to drink alone?" Kaban asked, and though he wasn't exactly a betazoid, he could see the answer in Fisher's face, judging by the strain at the corner of his green eyes.

In truth, Fisher had wanted to be alone when he came to the Spearhead lounge, but he knew it was better to commiserate with someone, rather than stew in one's own feeling of self-loathing, and regret. "That was the intention." He admitted, knowing it was unwise to push a lie when he was very clearly outwardly compromised, especially when it came to a Klingon who might not appreciate being lied to. "Was, being the key word." He raised his tumbler, and Kaban nearly toasted Fisher with an empty fist, his attention turning back to see that the steward had indeed just returned with his refilled blood wine. Aggressively he grabbed the tankard and clanged it against Fisher's glass before they each took a drink.

"Bring me a bottle!" Kaban barked.

Fisher simply shook his head.

"You seek to drink out of sorrow though?" Kaban asked more quietly, not wishing to draw any attention to the matter they were to discuss. He could see the realization already, and didn't need to wait for a response, or at least he hadn't considered waiting for one. "Over a woman?" he prodded.

There was only silence for a long moment, at least from Fisher's part, as he debated how to answer. Of course, by the time he'd decided to answer, his Klingon friend had already ascertained the veracity of the situation. "Among many things." Fisher said simply.

"Bah! Then we drink to your sorrows!" Kaban raised his tankard high, a few other Klingons nearby deciding to join in on the celebratory gesture, though they had no idea the reasons behind it.

"Sláinte!" Fisher offered, only to confuse Kaban for a moment. "It means... Qapla'!" he added afterward, and Kaban offered a hearty laugh, before responding in kind.

And so, for the next thirty-two minutes, Fisher and Kaban drank together, sharing stories of battles past, wounds sustained in combat, and the sweet taste of victory. Fisher told Kaban and several other Klingons who joined in on the conversation of his time aboard the Diamondback, during the height of the Klingon Civil War, when the Akira-class starship had fended off a group of rogue Klingon ships near the neutral zone. In turn, Kaban shared a tale of his time aboard a Bird-of-Prey during the attack on Deep Space Nine. Fisher even discovered that Kaban and Torvok were in fact brothers, not just comrades in arms. Kaban of course the older, and wiser of the two, who looked after his younger more reckless sibling. They laughed, they yelled, and Fisher almost forgot entirely the burdens that had weighed so heavily on his mind, and soul. Though, Kaban soon brought the topic back up, as the drink was clearly having an effect on him.

"Women are difficult!" he blurted. Though Kaban hadn't an entire understanding of all the details that had befallen his Starfleet friend, as Fisher wasn't the kind of man to openly admit much of anything. He'd not even revealed his actual position aboard Theurgy during all their conversation, as the Intelligence Officer preferred if his role went unspoken to as many people as possible. If said people wanted to speculate about it, then that was on them, but for the most part, only those who truly needed to know, would he let know. The irony of course, that it was that very thought process that had driven the wedge between him, and Rutherford during the Nicander interview. Still, that didn't stop Kaban from trying to alleviate whatever was bothering the bearded man. "Human women especially so!" he jabbed, and the others all laughed as Fisher couldn't help but also nod in a sense of half-drunken agreement/amusement.

A song soon began to break out, only for Kaban and the others to turn and watch for a moment, raising their tankards in approval as they stood near the bar. Soon, they too began to sing along, Kaban beckoning for Fisher to join in, and the Intelligence Officer relented, raising his whisky high, standing beside the big Klingon Bekk, and he recited the words he could remember. " 'ej HumtaH 'ej DechtaH 'Iw / 'ej Doq SoDtaH ghoSpa' Sqral bIQtIq "

With a big fang filled grin, Kaban nodded in joyous approval of the Intelligence Chief as they sang together, planting a firm hand on his shoulder as a sign of comradery. " 'e' pa' jaj law' moch jaj puS / jaj qeylIS molar mIgh HoHchu'qu' "

The song reached its crescendo, and there was cheering, laughter, and toasts shared. Fisher and Kaban downed their beverages.

Then it happened. Fisher had only just turned his back only for the briefest of moments, when something loud and terrible had suddenly occurred, rendering him momentarily unconscious.

Slowly, through blurred vision, the world returned to him as he groggily awakened from an unconscious state. Though as he tried to move, an intense pain radiated through his body, emanating from his lower left abdomen. Pressing a hand against the area, he felt it slick and soaked through, only to observe crimson coating his fingers as a result. The ringing in his ears gradually began to give way too, though only for one of them, and he could hear moans of agony, mixed in with cries of anguish. There were calls for help and screams of shock and awe. With great strain he tried to move so as to sit up, needing to use one of his aching arms to prop himself up, and there he saw a splatter of red blood against the retaining wall of the bar counter, where something sharp and metallic had been lodged, pinning a piece of torn red flesh against it.

"Thea..." he tried to speak, and his head ached as though he'd just gone twelve rounds with a Nausican. Around him, he examined his surroundings, and could see scattered bodies slowly starting to move again, though there were more than a few who didn't. "Kaban?" he announced as he clawed at the floor, cutting his hand against the shards of glass that were littered everywhere. Crawling closer to the huddled form, Fisher reached out to grab the warrior's shoulder, and pulled him so that he could see his face. There was a fixed gaze in the Bekk's eyes, though the deep gash that ran along the ridges of his forehead, leaving the contents of his mangled skull exposed to the air only confirmed what Fisher feared. He was dead. Letting the body come to a rest, he struggled to try and push himself up from where he lay.

"Nnnngh! Fuck!" he grunted as a deep pain surged up his right leg when he tried to put any weight on it, nearly causing him to topple back to the floor once more. His eyes scanned the room as he shifted his weight to his seemingly uninjured left leg, a hand pressing against the wound on the front of his abdomen, unaware that it ran clean through to his back, from where the piece of shrapnel had entered in the explosion.

"Oh no." he said softly as he spotted the area were Ducote, Akoni, and Douglas had been seated, seeing only mangled and torn bodies that lay unconscious, and unmoving.

Instinctively, Fisher went for his combadge, though soon realized that it'd been torn free from his chest during the blast. With another grunt of pain, he clutched to the damaged bar counter for support, struggling to stay on his one good leg. "Th..." his voice cut out. "THEA!" he hollered, trying to raise the ship's AI. "Emergency in Spearhead lounge." he finished as he spotted a woman with white hair and horns, splayed out motionless just a few feet from him. Taking one step, his right leg gave out on him and he scattered to the floor, surging pain running up through him like a tidal wave, and the wound to his abdomen feeling as though it'd been torn worse in the fall. As he groaned again, Fisher crawled nearer to the young woman, and reached out a hand to touch her shoulder, so as to stir her awake.

She didn't move.
  • Last Edit: July 14, 2020, 10:34:14 AM by Swift
Writer of [ Lt. Cmdr. Andrew Fisher | Chief Intelligence Officer | USS Theurgy NX-79854 ]

Re: CH02: S [D01|2147] Incipient Sabotage
Reply #2
[ Salem & Vivian Martin | Spear Head Lounge | Deck 14 | USS Theurgy ] @stardust
[Show/Hide]

The location wasn't exactly ideal anymore. The spearhead lounge was not as quiet as the usual weekly catch up had been. Vivian Martin sighed as she glanced around, and felt uneasy, her spine tingled with so many Klingon's around the artificial metal always felt a touch more stiff than the real thing had been even if it was supposedly the same amount movement she breathed and tried to feel at ease these Klingon's were their allies. Their was no danger here... well aside from all the danger they were running towards. Maybe coffee was a bad choice this time she already felt like she was having jitters.

Coming from the main Bar, Salem spotted his sister and walked up to her, putting the coffee down in front of her, the same order she had the last few times they had met up, even if the lounge was slightly more lively with the added presence of the Klingons. Salem had a fond impression of them, surrounded by warriors who tended to spend their entire lives working their way up a food chain he felt a small kinship to them. He had also completely missed the Ugly parts of the Dominion War when the Klingon's had broken the accords. Plus he couldn't really see any spoon heads out and about today.

"So you stepped down from being the chief Science officer?" It had been an Elephant in the room and Salem finally felt like broaching the subject.

Vivian sighed and nodded softly. "I need to work out some personal issues, for me to be a better leader I need to... get past a few things." She had told her brother about her dead fiance. Jessica  still wore on her, and now she was also trying to look after Salem, even if her brother would tell her she was worrying about nothing just looking at him now she couldn't help but feel a deep sorrow at what she knew.

"Stop it." Salem's voice cut through the air for a moment as he leaned forward and flicked his sisters forehead softly. "You're worrying about me again Vivi, and I'm not going anywhere yet." He leaned back and sipped his own drink. Coffee was a no go for him, it went against his carefully balanced diet he was stuck with drinking tea, his tea of choice today was a warm mint and lemon mix. "Well... Maybe the brig."

"The brig?" Vivian said for a moment blinking as she looked at her twin, amusement, shock, and a bit of horror went into her voice at the sudden confession. "Salem... what did you do." She leaned in, a small flash of anger in her eyes. "What did you do Lieutenant  Salem Martin." She swore if he was locked up she would let him rot... for like a day or two... three max.

"I may have told a member of management.... to go fuck themselves, in very colorful language... and thrown my communicator in her office... and nearly punched her." Each confession seemed to make Salem shrink slightly under the gaze of his sister who seemed all the more angry.

"What... why!?" Her voice was so loud that even one of the other tables turned to look at the two of them before she got more hushed and drank more. "Why would you be so stupid?"

"It... It's Rutherford." Salem admitted as his head ducked down and his voice hushed he kinda felt like he was a child again trying to share secrets or be discreet or was he being scolded honestly he didn't know which it was.

"The diplomat.... explain?" Vivian's voice was tempered but she was eyeing her 'little' brother with suspicion she knew him well enough that to go off like that was rare, but not impossible she wanted to know the reason at least before she made any snap judgement.

"She signed the order..." Salem admitted still trying to sound a bit sheepish not wanting to give the full story.

"Their have been a lot of orders Salem... like should I be calling security, I shouldn't be hearing this I don't want to have testify at your court-martial Salem." Their was a creeping concern in her voice. Vivian just wanted her last remaining living relative to be safe.

"The order... the only order that has ever mattered... The Kalevia order." He finally confessed as he sipped more of his tea, finishing the drink his eyes looking more forelorn just at the mention of the camps name. Vivian for her part seemed to understand and nodded slowly she had seen his back, knew the level of torment he had been put through, knew how personal that wound was for him.

"So you threw a tantrum in her office... did she press charges." Vivian said trying to figure out if she was going to have to turn her brother in, or more likely try to find some way to hide him in the crew.

"Not that I am aware... I think... It's been a while and I haven't been brought to a disciplinary comity... so." He looked around. For the last few weeks he had been glancing over his shoulder trying to check that he wasn't being watched or about to be arrested by security. "I think... I think she chose to let it go..."

"You're lucky... I don't think any of the other department heads would have let you get away with that shit Salem. You need to be more careful, with your condition you can't give people reasons for wanting to remove you from your console promise me you won't do this shit again." Their was a sudden cold tension between them for a moment as Salem got up from his seat seeing both their drinks were finished. "Promise me salem?"

Salem let out some grunt. "It will be fine." He said gathering up their cups. "Want another drink?"

Walking towards the bar, Salem sighed for a moment but it felt good to have talked about the fight with Samantha Rutherford, walking to wards the front of the bar his back to everything. He turned around standing at the bar. He knew Vivian had a point, he was on a limited clock, he wanted to reach commander before he could no longer serve and his tantrum would be exactly the kind of reason he could never get that kind of promotion. He was stuck, and needed to be more... needed to be exemplary with the time he had left to live. Looking at his sister stressed at the table he grabbed the new drinks and started to walk back to her....

Light, burning pain, he was thrown around, his ears rang in his head, his body screamed at him, he felt wet, had he had fallen over? He was so confused, His eyes opened, and he felt pain, living, he could hear shouting, but it sounded so far away... Vivian, where was Vivian, everything was so confusing, so on fire, so bad. So red, his vision was red. "Vivian?" His words were more a cough.

The table had been over turned, his sister... she was on the ground. He pulled himself towards her, dragging himself back up to his sisters side. "Please... no... don't." He didn't want to touch her... he didn't want her to be dead, he didn't want to touch her and find her cold, he heard her groan, and suddenly he was right next to her she was alive, barely, she was bleeding a lot worse than he was.

Something had hit Vivian in the side. She was alive, but hurt bleeding. His hands pressed to that red wound applying pressure. "Stay with me Vivian... You can't leave me... You can't." He was dying. If Vivian died here than.... he didn't want to think like that.

"Medical!" His voice sounded so strange his own head wound made everything feel weird and loopy, why was their so much blood? "Please help! She's still alive.... Medical! I need a doctor here!"

"Stay with me vivian... You're supposed to outlive me!"
  • Last Edit: July 15, 2020, 09:54:31 AM by Masorin
I will be gone from july 21st-28th on vacation.

Re: CH02: S [D01|2147] Incipient Sabotage
Reply #3
| CPO Sithick | Spearhead Lounge | Deck 14 | Vector 1 | USS Theurgy

Sithick stepped into the Spearhead Lounge. He had put off his evening meal as long as he could. The Gorn normally ate later than the rest of the crew to save them from the goring scene of his carnivorous frenzy consuming raw meat. Looking around the lounge, he noticed that it was filled with many Klingons. They would not be offended by his eating habits. This would be like eating aboard the Roc'Tar again.

Scanning the room he noticed the non-Klingon occupants. Members of the senior crew were milling about, comm and non-comm officers here and there. Then Sithick spotted Vivian and her brother Salem at a table. As if the Klingons presence didn't make this experience awkward enough. The thought of dining somewhere else crossed the Gorn's mind that is until he was tapped the shoulder by Chief Liliana Walton.

"Hey big guy, didn't know the Spearhead needed a bouncer. This must be the place to be tonight. Care to join me?"

Sithick attempted a smile but the best his Gorn face could manage was a toothy snarl. "Eyes woulds likes thats." Maybe Vivian seeing him with another female would make her feel like he had moved on. Which he had, but she was one of his firsts. Luckily Liliana found an empty table on the opposite side of the room from Vivian and her brother. Hopefully, she wouldn't notice his presence.

"I'll order the drinks. Go to the replicator and get me something...." Walton looked around the room. "Klingon." The fighter pilot was going to earn respect from the Theurgy's guests. "The wigglier the better."

Sithick walked over to a nearby replicator and punched up the specialized menu for carnivorous species. The computer displayed a shortlist of replicated protean rich meat dishes. Replicated flesh paled in comparison to the real thing. He selected a bowl of Racht for himself and a bowl of Torgud gagh for Liliana. Torgud gagh is said to wiggle down the throat. Sithick suspected she would throw it up before their meal was done.

Returning to their table, the Gorn flicked his tongue out and taste/smelled the air. The room smelled very much like the crew mess on the Roc'Tar and something else familiar from his past. As he approached the table where Liliana was waiting with two large tankards of bloodwine, Sithick overheard the conversation of a boasting Klingon. A Klingon whose unique musk he had tasted before.

"And there I was serving aboard the IKS Orintho, that was before we attacked Deep Space 9. Our commander had scheduled a refueling stop at the spaceport on Halee II. I know what you are all thinking. Only honorless BiHnuchs would ever set foot on that barely liveable rock. But we had just returned from glorious battle and badly needed fuel. Now the only honor to be had in that wretched place was in the fighting pits. It was there my friends that my father, K'Teg challenged one of the Gorn toy'wI''a' working there. A mighty green beast of immense stature. Extremely long claws and snarling teeth sharp enough to slice through targ bones like butter. Five rounds my father went with this beast, not once shedding his own blood. The Gorn however wasn't so lucky. My father cut off one of its hands, for a trophy mind you. I blame my mother for losing it while I was away fighting the Dominion. But this," Mok'ra pulls out a single tooth attached to on string around his neck. "This is the tooth that my father pulled out of the Gorn's mouth after he defeated him."

The band of Klingons surrounding Mok'ra cheered and laughed at the story they just heard. "Mok'ra, that Gorn gets bigger each time you tell that story."

"Are you challenging the truth of my father's victory? Do you now challenge my honor as an honest warrior?" Mok'ra stood and drew his dagger.

The table went quiet. As did the ones surrounding it. Then Mokra burst out laughing. "More bloodline!"

Sithick knew the truth of the tale. He had been that Gorn and the actual narrative of events went a lot differently. Licking the air again, he wanted to be sure that Mok'ra was indeed who he claimed to be, and then he struck. He placed the Klingon dishes on the table where Liliana waited and swiftly crossed the lounge to the table just as Mok'ra made his demand for more drink. Sithick slammed his scaly fist on the table creating a spiderweb crack across the surface.

"Eyes challenges yours honesties, Mok'ras, Sons ofs K'Tegs. Eyes bees these Gorns yours fathers allegedlies defeateds." Sithick placed his mostly healed hand on Mok'ra's shoulder. Sithick wagered that the Klingons wouldn't know about the speed in which Gorn's cells regenerated but their reactions to imply the idea it was longer than the few days it took Sithick to regenerate the loss of his fingers from his fight on Aldea.

"Look, his hand. This must be the Gorn K'Teg fought. But you said your father killed him."

Mok'ra's face paled as his eyes focused on the reptilian claw on his shoulder. With a shutter and a quick spin sideways, Mok'ra assumed a fighting stance. "Impossible! That mak'dar died with the crew of the Roc'Tar!"

"The Roc'Tar? You petaQ, so the tale is false." was one of the protests Sithick heard among the shouts of Mok'ra's comrades.

"The creature lies! My father killed that Gorn on Halee! See I have the tooth as proof!" Mok'ra attempted to defend himself.

Sithick faced Mok'ra. "Grrrrrrs. Eyes, sees yous founds ones ofs mys babys teeths."

The table of Klingons bursts into laughter at Sithick's remark. "I..... stop. Cease laughing. I will not be dishonored so. This miserable beast stole my father's honor and now he steals mine! Mark my words Gorn, you will die by the hands of Mok'ra....."

A sharp whistle filled the air and from across the room Mok'ra spotted Lt. Cmdr. Kai Akoni tapped the phaser on his hip. "Is there a problem, Mr. Sithick?"

"Nose sirs, justs settings records straights withs ours guests. Eyes thinks he's leavings." Sithick responded.

"Remember brother, we are guests here." spoke one of Mok'ra's compatriots who had grabbed him at the elbows and tried to escort him out of the lounge. After a few seconds, Mok'ra ceased to resist.

Speaking to Akoni, Mok'ra declared. "My apologies, it must be the bloodwine. A bad vintage can cloud the mind of the best of warriors." Mok'ra smiled a sharp grin to Sithick, "Perhaps we can discuss my father's honor another time? Come," he ordered his friends but only two joined him as they left the lounge.

"What was that all about?" asked Liliana who had left their table to see where Sithick had gone.

"Join us!" The remaining Klingons ordered. "Your friend too. And tell us of the fall of K'Teg and the glory of the Roc'Tar. More Bloodwine!"

As Liliana practically jumped into a seat at the table, Sithick's tongue picked up something dangerous in the air. His reptilian pupils dilated as time slowed and his eyes spotted the spark and approaching combustion wave. His brain began to work the calculus of protecting Liliana when the Vivian variable appeared as he was facing her direction.

"Did she see what happened just now," he thought. "No time to think. Time only to act." Sithick grabbed the table in front of him with one hand, his still-healing hand, and hurled it through the air, over people's heads, across the room hoping it would reach Vivian blocking the explosion and protect her from the brunt of the blast. As the objects on the table hit the floor and the Klingon's began to protest, the Gorn's other hand grabbed Liliana by her uniform collar and shoved her behind him.

Then the blast hit and Sithick's world went white. The ringing continued after his sight returned. The Gorn's tongue flicked the air rapidly searching for the taste/smell of survivors. The entire lounge had been remodeled in debris and bodies, some moving, some not. Sithick looked across the room to where Vivian had been sitting, the table he had thrown embedded in the bulkhead wall behind her. It had absorbed some of the blast but not enough. Sithick could faintly hear her brother screaming for help under the ringing in his ears. The Gorn then thought of Liliana. Turning rapidly, he flicked his tongue searching for her taste/smell. Then he saw it next to a window with a flickering forcefield. A feminine hand grasping a chair for leverage. Sithick sighed a breath of relief as Liliana stood up from where he had thrown her, rubbing her forehead.

"Damn, big guy. What the hell."

Sithick was about to respond and begin hazard response when the ceiling above Liliana collapsed.

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOWWWWWWWRRRRRRRRRRSSSSSSSSS!!!!!!" the feral beastial roar that escaped the Gorn's mouth was primal and full of raw emotion. It was the sound that all prey feared. If survivor's ears weren't ringing before they would be now.

The explosion had compromised the structural integrity of this entire section of the ship. The forcefields were holding but for how long? Was there a hull breach? Did anyone get blown out into space? No time for answers, evacuation of the danger zone was the priority for now.
CPO Sithick [Show/Hide]
CWO1 Larrant [Show/Hide]

Re: CH02: S [D01|2147] Incipient Sabotage
Reply #4
[ CPO Mickayla MacGregor & Crewman 3rd Class Samala | Corridor Adjacent to Spearhead Lounge | Deck 14 | Vector 01 | USS Theurgy ]
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"Why can't they serve real alcohol?" Mickayla grumbled to herself as she stomped down the corridor. The sight of the Erudite had brought up bad memories from a month earlier when she had been taken and tortured aboard that Versant. She had hoped that getting drunk would help before she had remembered that that was practically impossible given the synthehol that was served aboard. That and the presence of so many Klingons had her on edge and she had taken to walking to corridors to try and clear her mind, without much luck.

She was just approaching the entrance to the Spearhead Lounge when the door opened to allow another crewman to enter and the loud sounds of rowdy Klingons filled the passageway. Shaking her head, she had every intention of continuing on her way when that decision was taken from her as the corridor was engulfed in a gout of flame; flame that originated in the lounge. Mickayla was thrown against the bulkhead and her ears rang from the blast. Shaking her head to clear it, Mickayla noted that the previous sounds of revelry had been replaced with screams of pain.

"Ma'am, are you alright?" came a voice from beside her and Mickayla turned to see a young woman, Romulan or Vulcan given her ears and bone structure. 

"Yes, crewman," Mickayla responded after shaking her head and noting the girl's rank. "I'm fine." The girl nodded in response before moving off to check a body lying on the deck nearby. Mickayla recognised it as the crewmember that had been ahead of her, entering the lounge. They had been blown back out the door. "How are they?"

"Breathing," the crewwoman declared as they continued to examine the victim. "Arm looks broken. Burns to exposed skin and I am betting on a concussion from the landing."

"MacGregor to Thea," Mickayla called out as she pulled herself to her feet and tapped her combadge. "Explosion in the Spearhead Lounge. Request Medical, Security and Engineering teams to this location," she said before looking at the crewwoman again. "What is your name?"

"Crewman Samala, ma'am," came the reply.

"Samala, you're with me," Mickayla said as she approached the broken doors to the lounge and looked inside to the carnage arrayed within.
PO3 Lorad [Show/Hide]
Lt. JG Donna 'Chance' Petterson [Show/Hide]
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CM3 Samala [Show/Hide]
Lt. T'Less [Show/Hide]

Re: CH02: S [D01|2147] Incipient Sabotage
Reply #5
[LCdr Blue Tiran-Ducote | Can't Breathe | Not Again | For Real | Worst Fears | Vivid Nightmares | The Scent of Flesh]
@Auctor Lucan




Ducote had sent the message thirty minutes ago via Albert, knowing it was the only and best way to get a message to Blue when she was in full on Engineering Mode.  Albert had soared across the deck to where Blue was checking on the slipstream engines again for the 3,618th time, since they had been initiated.  That might be underestimating but the only person really counting was probably Albert anyway. 

[Miss Blue, Mister Ducote requests your presence at the Spearhead lounge.  He states, do not make me carry you off the deck, you know I will, I will give you tacos and twinkies.]

That last part had made Blue laugh at out loud because he most definitely knew the way to her heart, her stomach, and to get her to do things.  She grinned over at Albert and gave a nod.  "Tell him I'll fucking come, shit." she shook her head as Albert relayed the message.  But, Blue had a couple things to take care of before all of that happened and she needed to make sure that everything was done properly and then find her people to make sure that someone was in charge of the deck while she was up having dinner with her husband.

She cleaned up, put her hair in a new bun since it seemed to take challenge in it's escape efforts and headed up to dinner.  Leaving her more senior staff members in control but she had her PADD and they knew to inform her if anything went wrong they couldn't handle.  As she stepped off the deck people seemed to relax a little bit more. Blue wasn't a bitch, not really, she just expected everyone to do their fucking jobs in timely manners.  Still, now they were able to let their hair down and do things a little more leisurely but it still had to be done.

Being married, didn't feel that much fucking different than not being married.  They lived together, ate together, bitched together, fucked together, and it was about the same only she had an extra ring around one of her fingers.  But, the solidity of knowing that she was married, knowing that Ducote and she were bonded together in some kind of more permanent way even though it wasn't really any more so, was special to her.  She supposed it just meant he couldn't walk away as easily as he could have before, but really he had been fucking with her for the last several years he had ample opportunity to bounce if she wasn't his cup of tea and yet no matter what her decisions were, her behaviors, or anything he always accepted her for who and what she was. 

The Turbolift ride was simple enough, straight up to the deck where the Spearhead Lounge was, she didn't often spend time in the Lounge, and honestly she and Ducote tended be home bodies when they were off shift.  They liked their privacy.  Replicated food, a good movie, lots of cuddles, and sleeping.  It was the perfect recipe for the perfect fucking life.  Though occasionally Ducote seemed to need to socialize and he usually used those opportunities as fucking ones to drag his poor suffering wife along for the ride so that she could make friends.. or some shit like that.

Today was apparently one of those days.

The lift doors opened and Blue could see the Spearhead lounge entrance and it's ambiant light just before the bend in the corridor.  She paused a moment to adjust her uniform jacket, unzipping it because she was fucking off duty now, and also because she would probably take it off in the lounge.  Actually, now that she thought about it, she slipped it off her shoulders and pulled it off to loop it over her arm now in a casual tank top, the Starfleet issued pants and boots.  As she began walking again, the massive explosion occurred. 

Blue turned and cringed against the bulk head, her ears ringing sharply.  For a moment she was almost dazed, her eyes were open and yet she couldn't quite get her mind to work right.  She felt weird, disoriented, and kind of off.  As her hearing began to return slightly she heard the screams, and someone said Spearhead lounge.  It took a moment, a full moment for everything to sink in.

No!

Blue didn't walk she ran, she ran the last distance to the Lounge, the bulk head was charred and black, tables were over turned, and complete debris.  Chairs were shards of wood, plastic, and metal laying strewn about the building.  There was no bar any more, it was gone, just flattened completely or something, she wasn't even sure, the over head lighting was flickering and some of them had lost their bulbs and shades but were still conducting electricity and thus sparks showered over the people that were running here and there. 

"Ranaan!" she screamed, the wail was one that she had never uttered out loud before, the shrill panic and fear of knowing that he had been in here waiting for her.  There were others talking to people, calling out for people, they could all get fucked, she needed to find Ducote.  She knew that the right thing to do was probably offer aid and assistance and that ws in the back of her mind but she was not a fucking doctor and there was only one person in this fucking room that she needed to get to.  Ranaan usually preferred a specific spot in the back and so she headed there first it wouldn't have been their first date in this stupid lounge.

There were others, bodies all over.  Many of them blown to the point of not being able to recognize, and body parts here and there.  She stepped over an arm, that was still twitching with it's nerve endings still firing with the pain of the loss of brain power.  There were cries of pain, cries of help, and Blue pushed past everyone to the back where she began to look through debris. 

"Ranaan." she called out as she looked around, she couldn't see him right away.  She saw others, most of them dead, there was one woman who's skull was crushed to the point that half of her face was flattened under what had probably once been part of the bar.  A heavy metal beam still laying on her face but her blue eyes stared unseeing up at the ceiling.  Blue stepped past her looking for anything.

"Please." she begged and pleaded as she moved through the debris to find him.  Moving what she could of the small debirs, Blue was strong as fuck she had to be to do her job.  There were tools and things too but she still relied a lot on her physical strength.  Moving a wooden beam and shoving it over to the side she finally saw a flash of red.  Just a cuff of his jacket.

"Ranaan!" she cried out as she got onto her knees and crossed over to him.  She shoved a large metallic sheet off of him to expose the fact that he was in bad shape, worse shape than she had ever seen.  There was a large beam cutting across his chest, and currently his chest was also impaled, it looked as though he had landed on part of the metal support for the table when the explosion had happened.  She looked at him, his face was peaceful like he was sleeping at the moment but she could see that he was trying to wake up, or open his eyes.  His breathing was harsh and nasty, it sounded wet, and Blue might not be a doctor but she knew it sounded bad. 

"Hey baby." she whispered as his eyes opened.  His eyes flickered around, those big dark eyes that were always kind and accepting that had never looked at her with anything other than love, acceptance, and humor.  They turned back to her and she could easily read the panic in his eyes.  "You're okay, we have fucking Starfleet Medicine here, they're going to patch you up with a fucking tricorder in a few minutes and you'll be back giving me twinkies in no time."

Ranaan opened his mouth as if to speak, but as he tried to fill his lungs he couldn't, panic set in more so and a small amount of blood came and colored his lips.  "No, this is one fucking time you keep your fucking mouth shut Ranaan Ducote." she whispered as she leaned down and brushed his hair off his forehead looking into his eyes.

"I NEED A FUCKING DOCTOR OVER HERE RIGHT THE FUCK NOW!" she cried out across the room. 

It was only seconds later that Medical beamed in and she hailed the closest one.  "You.  Here. Now."

One of the nurses rushed over, medical kit bouncing on her hip, she crashed down next to Blue and began to scan over Ducote, her face grew more pale by the moment.  Ducote was still looking around trying to breathe, his hand clenching Blue's for all it was worth but she didn't care, he could cause her any amount of physical pain because it didn't begin to touch the sheer amount of emotional pain she was going through at the moment. 

"What are you waiting for?!" she asked the woman.  "Fix him!"

"Ma'am." the nurse looked over at Blue with wide shocked eyes.  "We need to get him to medical."

"Fine fucking get us all there at fucking once don't think you can leave my ass behind because I swear to every fucking God known to all fucking races that I will make every fucking day you're assigned to this ship a mother fucking nightmare."

"There's no need to threaten me."

A gentle squeeze of Blue's hand and she nodded.  "Sorry." she apologized.  "This is my husband."

"I'm aware Commander." said the nurse.  "Thea site-to-site, emergency transport to Medical." the woman called out.

Moments later Blue, Ranaan, and the nurse were in medical where he was immediately placed in an ICU containment field.  Blue was not allowed to be with him at this time, and was forced to stay outside the containment field for the moment while the Doctors and nurses descended on him.  Running scans, and everything else they could possibly do to figure out what they could do to fix Ducote and get him back on the Bridge where he belonged.  The whole time they worked Blue was a pacing prowling animal.  Chewing on her fingernails, chewing on her fingers, pulling on her hair, and she began pinching her scalp waiting for them to fix him. 

She couldn't breathe.

She couldn't think.

She couldn't do anything except pace, pinch, and wait.  Over and over again, she was probably in the way but she didn't fucking care.  Other people were beginning to be transported to sickbay too but none of them mattered as much as the man on the table.  None of them held any candle to the man laying there with the computer keeping him alive while they tried to figure out if they could remove the metal from the center of his heart and keep him alive. 

Blue paced, pinched, and waited.

Finally, one of the doctors stepped out of the ICU unit and looked over at Blue.  "Don't you fucking do it." she hissed over at him, she could read a face a mile away she had always been really fucking gifted at reading people. 

"Commander, can I speak to you over here please?" he asked pointing to one of the more secured areas.

"No. No! No if you're going to tell me what I think you're going to fucking tell me."

"Commander."

"Quit calling me that!" her voice hitched as she clenched her hands in her curly hair and followed the doctor into the small private alcove. 

"Commander Tiran, your husband is in a condition that we cannot quickly remedy." he stated calmly, too calmly, Blue wanted to punch him in the fucking face. 

"What the fuck does that mean?!"  she demanded angrily.  "You bring that fucker back, no one gave him permission to fucking die!"

"He's not dead ,but I recommend we put him into stasis until we can figure out how to remove the obstruction in his heart without destroying it."

"Can't you fucking just make him a new one?!"

"It's not that easy, his lungs are collapsed, his heart is impaled with more metal than flesh at this point, his liver has shut down, his kidneys are getting close to failing.  We fixed his concussion, his legs, and his broken arm, he had a severed spine, which we fixed too.  But there are things we cannot fix at this moment."

"Fine.  Stick him in the tank, what for like.. a couple hours?  A day?  Tell me what we fucking have." she said as she began chewing on her nail again.

"We're not sure.  I need to tell you Commander, we may not be able to fix this."

"What..." she stopped moving, her voice nothing but a whisper.

"He may have to stay in stasis indefinitely." he said matter of factly.

"He doesn't want that. It's in his directive." she whispered as she put her back to the wall and tried to stop her limbs and hands form shaking but failed miserably.

"Give us a chance to assess.  We can make more decisions later." he said putting a hand on her shoulder which she immediately thrust it off of her she didn't want any fucking comfort from that fucker.

"Can I see him?" she asked.

"Of course, he's stable, but we're getting the tank ready." he stated and left.

Blue moved to his bedside, he was asleep, but she didn't think that he could hear her.  The machines were keeping him alive and probably asleep.  The metal in his chest still sat there but it was covered with some kind of plastic looking skin that kept it clean or whatever she assumed.  She took his hand in her own and kissed the back of his big thick knuckles.

"You better fucking come back.  You sure as fuck didn't ask for permission to get your ass blown up, that's my fucking job.  I work in fucking engineering for Christ's sake.  That's right I said Christ, you can bitch at me later." she said as tears streamed down her cheeks.  She put his hand against her cheek and snuggled into it.  "You're a fighter Ranaan Ducote, you wouldn't have married me if you weren't.  You better come back.   You better wake up.  That's my fucking heart you wounded in there you fucker, it's mine!"

Blue sat there just watching him breathe, and watching him sleep, his mind not reaching for her own for the first time since they had been reunited. 

"Commander Tiran."  came the voice of a nurse as they wheeled the stasis pod next to the bed.  She looked at her husband.

"Now?" she whispered in fear.

"We have to keep him stable, the longer he is out the further he will deteriorate."

Blue nodded and kissed her husband's brow.  "Sleep well, I love you Ranaan."

Stepping back she watched as they lifted him and put him into the tank.  With it closed, sealed, and activated, they wheeled him away.  Blue turned and ran down hall, out of Sickbay, and with absolutely no destination in mind she disappeared into the bowels of the ship to be alone.

Re: CH02: S [D01|2147] Incipient Sabotage
Reply #6
[ CPO Mickayla MacGregor & Crewman 3rd Class Samala | Corridor Adjacent to Spearhead Lounge | Deck 14 | Vector 01 | USS Theurgy ]
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"I've seen and even dealt my share of death and carnage," Samala thought to herself as she followed along behind the Klingon Security Chief. "But I've never had to be around to clean up afterwards. Not like this. It's almost too much." If someone had taken the time to look, they might have seen the tension on the young hybrid's face. Still, given the circumstances, most would have dismissed it as youth having to deal with the aftermath of disaster instead of what it really was; a telepath on the edge of losing control.

Samala wouldn't admit it but she had been, on edge, since her brother's departure. It was the first time that they had been truly separated since their escape from Bacury III and it was unsettling to her. And a telepath, even a fully trained one, that is unsettled, is dangerous. And Samala would tell you herself that she was far from fully trained. Competent yes, but not fully trained. And despite having dealt with battlefield injuries and even injuries in the hangers, the overpowering smell of so much charred flesh was pushing her over the precipice. And that, caused her mental shields to slip.

A tidal wave of pain not her own crashed down on her and it was all she could do to try and blunt the torrent and remain standing. Her teeth gritted, she was reduced to squinting through the smoke and flames as Mickayla stopped to check on people and bodies, assessing and rendering aid as she did so. Other members of the Theurgy's crew had started to arrive as well though Samala couldn't tell if they had been nearby or been sent in response to the Chief's call.

"Samala, lift the table while I pull," Mickayla called out. Trying to focus despite the mental onslaught, the hybrid moved over next to where Mickayla was crouched next to a half-hidden form. Steadying herself, Samala bent her knees and grasped the edge of the broken table before heaving upwards. "That's it, hold it," Mickayla said as she pulled the body free. "Shit, there is another one, hang on." Struggling from both the weight and the mental onslaught of raw emotions, Samala tried to focus on her breathing as the Klingon Chief dragged a second body out from under the table. "Ok, you can set it down." Relieved, Samala did exactly that before turning to see who she had helped free. One was a Cardassian female while the other appeared to be a Terran female with black hair, both wearing Teal Lieutenant Junior Grade uniforms.

"Who are they?" Samala asked, trying to distract herself.

"Lieutenants Ejek and Jovela," Mickayla answered softly. Her cursory check hadn't found any signs of life, but she stood up out of the way as a medic arrived. "Come on, there are others that need our help." Samala was about to agree when a new surge of thoughts slammed into her. Instead of pain though, it was what she could only describe as despair and desperation that flowed around her. Unable to stop herself, Samala looked around in search of the source and found a woman with blue-black hair on her knees. Just as quickly as she had found her, the woman disappeared in the light of one of the Theurgy's transporters, her emotions along with her. 

"Samala, let's go, we have a lot of work to do," Mickayla said, trying to get the crewwoman to focus. 
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Re: CH02: S [D01|2147] Incipient Sabotage
Reply #7
[ Lt. Cmdr. Andrew Fisher | Spearhead Lounge | Deck 14 | Vector 01 | USS Theurgy ]

Lighting elements attached to the bulkhead above sparked and flickered as sounds of pain and anguish began to fill the confines of a now utterly decimated 'Spearhead Lounge'. A lounge that only moments earlier had been filled with joyous singing, and cacophonous laughter. How things had changed so abruptly, likely meant one possible cause to the Chief Intelligence Officer, who himself was only gradually regaining a sense of cursory awareness in wake of having been thrown by a most violent shockwave into the now dislodged retaining wall of the bar counter. His ears rang, well at least one of them did, as the other seemed only to register a constant whirlwind of air gushing within, signifying a blown-out eardrum. He'd experienced the unpleasant loss of hearing on several previous occasions, and they all came at the behest of the same impetus; a massive air burst, brought on by an explosion of some magnitude. A culprit he soon realized that had clearly been at play here, as he again tugged at the motionless shoulder of young ivory-haired horned woman.

She wasn't breathing, and her eyes were fixed in a blank stare that he'd seen all too often before.

From all around him he could hear a building flurry of activity as others also began to realize and react to what had happened. There were cries for help from those that had endured the explosion, begging for help for themselves or for their injured companions. There were those that began to rush in from outside of the lounge, seeking to help or comfort the ones they'd cared for, that perhaps just an instant earlier they'd been sharing a moment of peace with. There was also a rising panic that began to set in among some, as a harrowing reality began to manifest a shape and tone. Many would die. Many more already had. The pain and anguish that would come as a result of this happening, was only just starting, and wouldn't reach it's true crescendo until much later on,  when the true toll was known in full. For Fisher, he had been the spared the worst of it, as physical injuries paled in comparison to the mental and emotional torment that would soon take hold of those around him; and for the first time in a long time, he felt truly fortunate to have been such a lone soul. For he knew not most, if not any of them beyond that of a casual acquaintance thus far.

Still, it didn't mean that this wouldn't take some sort of toll on him. They were people after all. Comrades even. Many wore the same uniform as he and believed in the same noble principles as he.

Accepting of the fact that this young woman was indeed dead, and feeling the sum of his own injuries beckoning him to lay still, he felt obligated to give in and so he slumped over onto his side adjacent to her lifeless form. He pressed his hand against the left side of his abdomen, as precious crimson continued to leak rather steadily from where he'd been pierced through by wayward debris, and from afar he saw the soft features of a crewman approaching him in what felt like slow motion. She reached out a delicate hand for him, coming to a rest on his shoulder, and he could see the teal ringlet that ran near the hem of her duty jacket sleeve, denoting her as either sciences or medical personal. Though she were right on top of him, her voice began to sound distant and removed; no doubt the result of a concussion and sense of shock starting to set in for him. She called out to him, asking something he couldn't make sense of, and as he struggled to blink away the fuzziness in his vision, she assumed the answer on his behalf.

There was a momentary hesitation as both Fisher and the crewmen heard a nearby woman hollering in anxiety induced anger. Turning slightly so as to focus on the cries of raven and cerulean woman, who had cradled someone that meant something to her, Fisher had only just recognized her as the Chief Engineer when she began to disappear in a whirring fizzle of bluish energy. An instant later as he realized who Commander Tiran had been cradling, the same whirring energizing fizzle enveloped him as well, and the devastation of the 'Spearhead Lounge' faded from view as he was transported to the sickbay on Deck 07.
Writer of [ Lt. Cmdr. Andrew Fisher | Chief Intelligence Officer | USS Theurgy NX-79854 ]

Re: CH02: S [D01|2147] Incipient Sabotage
Reply #8
[ USS Theurgy "Thea" NX-79854 | Corridor | Deck 29 | Vector 03 | USS Theurgy ]
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When the detonation came, Thea's systems had flared up and instantly, and notifications had been directed to all her Vectors - with her internal sensors rendering new data continually. Within seconds, sickbay had been alerted about incoming patients, and security guards on patrol in the vicinity had been notified. The bridge was made aware what had happened, yet Ives was unavailable at the time - recording a new message to Rear Admiral Andersson about the fallout of the Quantum Slipstream drive's usage. Still, no orders from the bridge were necessary, since emergency protocols were both meticulous and precise.

All of that was an automated response, which ensured that Medical were made alert and answered to the needs of the crew at that critical time. Thea herself, however, was not an automaton.

When it happened, she had been walking down a corridor, but she'd stopped in her tracks and turned her head with a worried frown. Her eyes had widened when her initial damage diagnostics had been generated, and she realised that life-signs were missing. She knew who had been in the lounge by tracing the internal sensor logs, and even as Medical were springing to action, Thea could not just remain idle. She accessed her transporter systems and made a site-to-site transport for her mobile emitter...

[ Spearhead Lounge | Deck 14 | Vector 01 | USS Theurgy ]

....and appeared in the midst of the charred chaos, with her chameleon body suit wearing teal colours. She had added a medkit to the containment beam, and now held it in her hand. Keeping herself from loosing incentive, in refusing to let the feed from her emotion chip conquer her, she set out to do what she could.

"I'm here!" she called out, answering all those who had come to shout for her. She spotted a lifeless form right next to her, and crouched down to open her medkit, but she continued addressing those who could hear her. "Initiating emergency medical transport of injured now, and a triage team is beaming in as soon as they have collected their gear. They will be here any second now!"

The survivors were milling about, and newly arrived personnel were shouting and doing what they could to help. As soon as the requests were made, Thea helped beaming injured to sickbay. Among them were Vivian Martin, the Chief Science Officer, and Kai Akoni, the Chief of Security. She was aware of Commander Ducote being relocated to sickbay as well, and she was crouching down at the side of Junior Lieutenant Nator 159, a Hermat who had been in stasis for the majority of the time they had been fleeing through the Alpha Quadrant. The medical tricorder in Thea's fingers told her that if the Hermat could be saved, she might end up in a stasis chamber once more.

"Both my Battle Sickbays have answered my call, and the personnel there are ready. Initiating new medical transports now!" she announced from where she sat, and Nator 159 vanished in a cascade of shimmering light. Standing up once more, she looked around for another body to tend to, meeting the eyes of some of the survivors, and she hoped she didn't look as shocked as she felt.


OOC: Status update! Check below which names that still needs to be brought up in this thread! Please go ahead and chip in to help, since this thread is open for all willing to participate! :)

Commander Ranaan Ducote (Stasis)
Lt Cmdr. Kai Akoni (Stasis)
Lt Cmdr. Vivian Martin (Stasis)
Lt. JG Nator 159 (Stasis)
Lt. JG Khorin Douglas (Stasis)
Lt. Izar bila (Stasis)
Ens. Seren (Stasis)
Lt. JG Jovela (Dead)
CWO3 Liliana Walton (Dead)
Ens. Mektari Dumral (Dead)
Lt. JG Zelosa Ejek (Dead)
Lt. JG Annika Van den Berg (Dead)
PO1 Dyan Cardamone (Dead)

Re: CH02: S [D01|2147] Incipient Sabotage
Reply #9
 [Lt. Cmdr. Natalie Stark | Main Bridge  | Deck 01| Vector 01 | USS Theurgy ]Attn: @Auctor Lucan any one present on the bridge. 

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Natalie Stark looked down at the PaDD she held in her left hand, sipping from a glass of water with her right, and both elbows braced on the armrests of the center seat. Sitting in the command chair still felt like something of a thrill, even thoughts she had occupied the spot on the bridge quite a few times during the stay over at Aldea. She had, in fact, captained both the Allegiant for a search and rescue mission, and for that matter, the Stallion had been hers when the continuance protocol kicked in. And yes, she was well aware that Captain Ives was just on the other side of a pair of doors, recording their message to Admiral Anderson to update their ally in command as to their current mission status. 

All the same, this was different then drawing a shift as watch officer when the ship had been split into three, locked into a Klingon dry dock facility high above Aldea. She was well into her second shift of the day at this point having drawn extended duty in time of relative crisis. She'd wanted to be on hands for the QSD jump, and was in fact, currently reviewing the reports. The Theurgy had traveled more than 60-light years in an hour. Amazing.

"The need for more Benamite crystals will prove paramount," she murmured, reading aloud under her breath part of the report. The crystals were extremely powerful when it came to controlling the energies required to maintain Slipstream, but the engine they ahd was only so efficient, and the burnout rate for the Benamite was distressingly steep. "No kidding," she added her own commentary, still barely audible. Oh sure, some of the officers on the bridge might have heard her - not everyone had the limitations of human hearing, in any event, but most of the crew were busy with their own tasks. 

Covering a yawn - it was almost time to hand things off to someone else and get some sleep - Natalie had just set her glass back into the built in cup holder on the command chairs armrest when an alarm went off at Ops. Her head shot up, and turned to look at Yvette Conway as the other woman let out a sharp gasp and bent over her console. A flurry of status board alerts flashed all over the bridge. To Natalie, it looked like the junior Lieutenant couldn't believe what she was seeing. The Ops Chief was leaning forward, hands braced on her knees about to ask what was wrong when Yvette gave her the bad news.

What followed was...inconceivable. An explosion in the Spearhead Lounge. What had caused it? How extensive? Preliminary indications were not good. Nothing structural but heavy casualties. "All departments, damage report. I need more information people," she ordered in a crisp tone she didn't recognize as her own. It certainly hid the spike of sudden terror that accompanied the rush of adrenaline as she listened to the reports coming in. The damage wasn't structural, but preliminary indications were grim. She read the initial scans twice over. A third time. They needed more data. They needed time to be sure but...

A bomb had gone off in the lounge where a large group of Martok's contingent had posted up, along side ....Dear God in heaven. She'd just been handed the initial casualty report, from Thea herself, having forwarded transport logs. Oh, no, no no. Too many names she knew too well. Oh, God, poor Blue...Swallowing, Nat gave the order.

"Red Alert. All hands to Emergency Stations. Damage control, security and medical teams to the Spearhead Lounge. Sickbay, prepare to receive casualties. Captain Ives to the bridge." She rose up from the chair as she spoke, moving over to the Ops station at the front of the bridge to get a better view of the situation. The alarm bleated out three times before she pressed a button to mute the klaxon on the bridge, though the red warning lights continued to flash. She kept her hand on Yvette's shoulder, silently instructing the woman to stay at her post. "Conn, maintain course and speed for now. Tactical, I want increased sensor sweeps, go full active. If there is anything out there about to pounce on us I need to know yesterday." The words were barely out of her mouth when the doors to the Ready Room opened and she turned to face Ives as they came out of the room. 

"Captain," she called out, unable to hide the slight warble in her voice as she schooled herself, "Reports are coming in now, sir. Explosion in the Spearhead Lounge. Confirmed 7 dead among the Klingon contingent with numerous more injured. Damage seems to be contained mostly within the lounge, thought I have a few conflicting reports. Damage control teams have been dispatched, and Thea is on hand. She reports..." 

And here, for a moment, Natalie had to stop, facing those oaken eyes. She didn't want to say it, but she needed to say it. "Casualty reports also indicate four dead, including Lieutenants Jovial and Ejek, and multiple critical wounded. In, including, Lieutenant Commanders Martian and Akoni, and Commander Ducote." The words fell like a leaden weight into the pond of the bridge, silencing the hurried conversation around them. Heads spun around or darted up, people stopped mid-stride. Nat turned and shot them a withering glare, and all the sudden they were moving again. Swallowing, and pressing on, refusing to let herself think about other names on that list, friends, dammit she continued to Ives. 

"wounded are being diverted among all three sickbays. Repair teams report that a section of the ceiling and the deck above have been compromised, but forcefields are currently holding." Don't think about Zelosia. Don't think about that argument you had, when she leanred she was being repalced. And don't think about Nator. God do not think about Nator, not again. They were standing there, by the center seat, Natalie having walked along beside Ives, those short, three, four paces from Ops. "Orders, Captain?"

For godsake, give me something to do, and make this make sense...
Note: No Posting while at GenCon, 7/31-8/5/2019

Re: CH02: S [D01|2147] Incipient Sabotage
Reply #10
[ Captain Ives | Main Bridge | Deck 01 | Vector 01 | USS Theurgy ]
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Upon stepping out on the Bridge in her female form, Ives was met by the sight of Stark dealing orders and then addressing her with a brief and initial report. She'd already had a dire surprise come her way earlier that evening, when Lieutenant Morali's abilities had been triggered once more, but this was more... real. It could not become more direct than casualties among the crew, and the threat being unknown.

Feelings her fingertips go numb, Jien closed her hands into fists. Command training had her push past the immediate implications of what she'd heard, and began to prioritise her immediate response. Stark had already dealt with the crisis beyond what Thea had already begun, so that left Ives with secondary priorities, all whom seemed to matter little, but she knew they actually did. "Commander Cross, you have the conn. We're going down there," she said to her Chief Tactical Officer and gestured for Stark to follow along with her as she headed for the turbolift. Before she left, she addressed the remaining officers. "Can someone please determine if the High Chancellor is among the wounded, and if not, inform him what's happened. I will speak with him on-site. Keep your eyes on sensors too, for if there are any cloaked ships out there, I want to know of it. Be ready to stand down on Red Alert when I give the word."

Once inside the turbolift, a quick "Deck 14," was offered, before she turned to Stark. It still felt like she had just taken a phaser bolt to her chest, but she didn't let it show. Too many losses already, and yet it never ended. "Either this was a rupture in Thea's systems, causing the detonation, or it was no accident at all. In that case, if there is no hull breach, I can but assume we have someone aboard that did this. I want Security ready to go over all surveillance prior to this explosion, and I want to know how this could have happened. I like to believe Thea's internal sensors would be able to detect a bomb before it exploded, but if not, we might be dealing with something that wouldn't look like a bomb prior to the detonation. If we have any experts in Science, let's send them to Security to help with the investigation. For now, the wounded are our priority. Let's focus on those we can save."

Knowing that while experienced, Stark was young, and though she had been exposed to a lot on the voyage, this detonation happened on her watch, and Jien didn't want Natalie to feel like she should blame herself for missing something. That wouldn't help anyone, least of all herself. She put a hand on Stark's shoulder, and sought out her eyes - looking deeply into them and trying to reach her through any residual panic or trepidation. "That's our priority now. Our singular priority. Save those who were hurt. The rest comes later, and if Thea's sensors couldn't see anything, then neither could any of us. Let's just do what we can."

Once the lift came to a stop, Jien stepped out and began to run down the corridor. Along the intersections they passed, more officers from Security and Medical fell in line with them as they made their way to the area of the blast. Once there, it was ten people who came in to aid in the wreckage. With Thea on site, she could act on orders given, with more wounded being transported to sickbay. The Medical officers present set up a triage operation on-site, and eventually, even Martok arrived.

Jien could empathise with the look in the Chancellor's face, being in part enraged and concerned for his Klingon companions. Even Martok began to sift through the wreckage, pulling Klingons back to their feet. The dust from the blast still hung thick in the air, but more had survived than paid with their lives. One Klingon didn't rise, however...

...and it was Khorin Douglas. The very person whom Akoni and Ducote were supposed to debrief about Gorka, son of Margon.

Was he the prime target?

Ives thought the former Lone Wolf dead... until he could see a shallow breath being taken. "Thea, another one here of emergency medical transport."

"Aye, Captain," answered the A.I.'s projection, before the Klingon vanished in shimmering light - likely due for stasis.
  • Last Edit: August 10, 2020, 03:53:36 PM by Auctor Lucan

Re: CH02: S [D01|2147] Incipient Sabotage
Reply #11
 [Lt. Cmdr. Natalie Stark | Main Bridge  | Deck 01| Vector 01 | USS Theurgy ]Attn: 
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Having briefed Ives in that moment, Natalie stood and tried not to shake as adrenaline and worry raced about inside of her. Something had exploded in the ship's officers lounge. God above, Martok? She hadn't even thought of that. He wasn't mentioned in the immediate reports but then who knew how many people were actually down there. She should have known though. She should have asked. I...I should have known. It was on my watch. I was in charge. I should have asked. I should have known. 

Oh, sweet merciful God I should have...
someone called her name, snapping her out of her thoughts. Her body moved on its own accord, brain having processed the orders before her sense of self caught up with the moment. She saw Lt. Cmdr. Cross Oh god, he's going to be a wreck too, moving from Tactical to take the center chair. She met his gaze for a brief moment, shared worry and shock reflected there, and then she was walking into the turbolift with the Captain, and the doors cut off the bridge.

The following slight hum of the of the turbolift was almost deafening as the two women took a moment to collect themselves. Into that relative silence, Ives spoke, laying out her thoughts on the path forward. Natalie swallowed and gave a small nod, and bit her lip Part of what the Captain wanted had already been taken care of, and it would behoove Natalie to make sure that Ives knew that. She couldn't remember if she had already said something or not. "Preliminary readings lead me to believe it was some kind of explosive device. If it was the EPS grid that had somehow become overloaded, the damage would have been much more extensive. But I can't be sure. Not until we've had a full forensic work up. Security should already be on hand. I'll send orders to Lt. Commander Kaeris to assign whom they see fit to assist."

She hadn't thought about that on the bridge, about how sending someone from Science might help them sort out how whatever had been used had been able to get past Thea's countermeasures. Something that was brought in multiple pieces, likely as not. Or some new chemical. I just...didn't think...I didn't.... Maybe Ives saw something in her at that moment, or maybe the Captain was just doing what a Captain did out of habit and routine. Some sixth sense, or simple experience. Whatever the cause, it was as if the Captain had read her mind. 

It was that hand on the shoulder that broke her inner spiral and caused her to blink up in surprise at Ives. She'd gone to staring at the small console built into the wall of the lift, tracking their progress through the ship. A small part of her was proud of herself for not jumping, though she had to wonder if that was because she was just too caught up in everything else Absolution was offered in those words. If she could allow herself to believe them. To believe Ives. But she wouldn't be where she was, if she didn't believe the woman across from her, would she? 

Her spine straightened up slightly, and she sucked in a sharp breath, nodding once. "Yes Ma'am," for what other answer could she give? She wasn't to blame herself, the Captain clearly did not. Thea had some of the most advanced sensors out there, and if she couldn't have detected the bomb before it went off, then there was nothing Nat could have done. All that was left now was to see to the wounded.

As soon as the doors split open, Natalie could smell the smoke, in the corridor. The life support systems had too much to deal with, and hadn't managed to bleed away the smoke billowing out of the opened doors from the Spearhead Lounge. Lights flickered all up and down the corridor; the explosion had cut short part of the EPS network then, though not enough to cause a secondary plasma leak or anything quite as nasty as that. God help me but I think we lucked out here. That could have been much worse. A harrowing thought as she ran down the hall after Ives. They gathered around them a squad of medics and security, officers coming to aid in the efforts. Natalie recognized two members from Ops, assigned to damage control, and clapped one on the shoulder, ordering them to do their best, and then got out of their way.

The Lounge was...horrifying.  There was an arm, tossed across the bar, and ti wasn't attached to the rest of its body. For a moment Natalie felt her stomach twist about, tying itself into a pretzel and threatening to bubble up and empty out there on the floor. A wave of vertigo nearly shook her off her feet, but she heard someone calling out for help, and she forced her discomfort aside, wading into the nightmare. She barely noticed Martok stepping up beside her, helping her turn over at table, before moving on to the next warrior.

A slender figure lay on his stomach, under  the debris she had helped to move. His voice was cracked and ragged, gasping in pain. She rolled him gently over, and saw there lodged into his throat something sharp and jagged. Up swept brows furrowed in an effort to remain composed, and his dark skin was far too ashen in color. Green blood stained the corners of his lips, and a flash of pain ripped a groan out from him. More of the green fluid stained the front of his shirt, and the further down she looked, the worse it got. Her eyes met Ensign Seren's as he struggled in his pain and she forced a small smile onto her face. He'd been so helpful with Otheusz, the refugee whom had come to the aid of some of the crew on Aldea. And now he was very likely to die in her arms. She doubted the Vulcan would appreciate the smile but she didn't know how to offer comfort to the wounded in any other way.

"It's okay. Don't speak. I'm here. We've got you. You did good. Just breathe ensign. That's an order," she crooned softly, her hand on his side, feeling the weak tremble of his heart, pushing more of the blood out. "THEA," she shouted above the din. She knew the poor AI was working overtime, coordinating the relief efforts, but then, she was an AI and had that power. "Emergency transport to sickbay. Critical wounded. Easy on Ensign. You've work left to do. They'll take care of you," she whispered as he vanished in a blue white swirl of light. She looked down at hand drenched in green blood, wondering if the last words the Vulcan had heard were truth, or just a well meaning lie.
Note: No Posting while at GenCon, 7/31-8/5/2019