Embedded Files
Location: Klingon Repertory Theater; Quo'Nos
Timeline: Conclusion of Othello performance
J’ok, in spite of himself, found that he enjoyed the play very much. The typical Shakespeare play; with it’s themes of betrayal, theft of honor, and violent retribution was extremely popular among Klingons -J’ok was now was beginning to understand their appeal. In fact, he caught himself smiling, broadly, during Desdemona’s murder by Othello. He quickly covered his face - as if stifling a yawn – to hide his obvious enjoyment of the scene from his ‘betrothed.’
Diana wasn’t fooled by J’ok’s manner. If she had any doubts about his intentions, she only had to glance over at him when the innocent Desdemona was murdered. If she went ahead with this wedding, she too would die by her husband’s hand. “The council notified me this afternoon,” she told J’ok, “we’re to be married in two days time.”
“Very well - I would defer to the Chancellor’s judgment on the matter, anyway …” J’ok replied, blankly (his eyes still on the stage). There was still no word from Captain Tk’tok, and even though the ‘diplomatic’ remark was all his own, this pathetic charade was getting to be simply too much for him. J’ok was accustomed to taking what he wanted, when he wanted it (“and to Gre’thor with the consequences!”). The idea of asking anyone for anything, much less begging for scraps of political power from a … human … the very thought of it made him, even now, suppress a tiny shiver of disgust. Attempting to offer some degree of consideration to the ongoing conversation, he added: “I look forward to this union. It will greatly benefit both of our Houses.”
As the house lights glowed to life above them, Captain Tk’tok Rag’naRok remained in his seat, glancing through the applauding crowd, looking for his nephew. He managed to do so as casually as possible, although he was beyond concerned about what ‘that lumbering brute’ might have said to the human. The Captain’s instincts, in this case, were dead on: J’ok Rag’naRok was, in fact, sitting a few rows over; completely destroying any chance of this working.
Seated next to ‘her Captain’, meanwhile, the lovely Lurra Dk’tahg began to applaud, loudly and emphatically (after adjusting an ornate, bloodstone-in-silver band on her right ring finger) and ignoring the older man’s frantic state, and appearing to be no more than a satisfied patron of the arts.
Diana rose, wrapped a fur about her shoulders, and picked up her clutch purse. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry,” she told J’ok. “I don’t believe this was your idea.” Turning to her bodyguards, she said, “I’d like to go home now.”
J’ok Rag’naRok watched, in surprised shock, as the immaculately dressed and styled Diana Hunter stood and started to leave. His first instinct was to leap out of his seat, grab the human woman by her shoulders and DEMAND that she stay; “force that dishonorable swine to know what the word ‘duty’ means to a REAL Klingon” he thought, in a sudden flash of offended anger. Surprisingly, the instant flare of bloodlust passed as quickly as it appeared (J’ok wondered, for a moment, if all the time he’d been spending around politicians was beginning to rub off on him; “Am I becoming a professional bullshit artist, too?!” he thought, disturbed and slightly nauseous).
A strange calm washed over him: instead of letting Diana’s behavior set him off into a murderous, uncontrollable rage, he instead felt peacefully determined. The feeling was accompanied by a strong sense of satisfaction at his promised prize: the galactic territories, battle fleet, property and power of House To’var … And the pleasure of watching Diana’s face turn blue and still, while he choked every last bit of life from her.
“After all, what can I do – besides wait for my opportunity? I lack the troops to make an example of her ‘bodyguards’, and the fat fool who dragged me here forgot to bring a squadron of warbirds with him. If the Council won’t give us what we want, and WHAT WE DESERVE, I suppose we’ll just have to keep taking it … one House at a time, if necessary.” J’ok thought.
He then simply stood, calmly, and watched the House To’var entourage gather up and exit the massive theatre – passing Diana a polite, solemn nod as goodbye. J’ok continued to stare out into the aisle as the Diana Hunter’s official retinue gathered up around the woman, and began ascending the wide, sweeping ramp up, and out, of the auditorium. As the formal assembly began to leave, no-one in the group passed J’ok Rag’naRok none but the merest passing glance (While his former ‘date’ ignored him completely) except for one woman, standing next to Diana. She glared directly at him, and there was a knowing accusation in her eyes … before she turned away and continued with the group. J’oK waited until the To’var party had fully blended into the gathering crowd, before he himself shuffled into the busy walkway, heading towards the opposite audience exits near the bottom of the stage.
*****************************
Location: Main Hallway of House To’var
Timeline: After play
“Ah, Diana,” the priest said, as he walked into House To’var’s main entrance. “I was hoping to find you.”
Diana looked up to see Fr. Dominic standing between her, and the portrait of her late husband. She’d been staring at Ta’rok’s image, and lost in thought. Her smile was as soft as her voice, when she replied, “Hello, Father. What can I do for you?”
“I just received a letter from a friend,” Fr. Dom told her. “I may have told you about him--Michael, Michael Lockwood?”
“I’m sorry, Father,” Diana said, “I don’t recall.” Her voice was filled with sadness; her thoughts far away.
“No matter,” the Jesuit said. “He sent a picture. I want you to see it.” He handed her the photo upside down. On the back, someone had written, “Did I mention, that I’m proud of my wife?!!”
Diana took the photo, read the back, and flipped it over. It was a picture of a couple in their 20’s. They might be a little heavier than what was considered fashionable, but fashion didn’t take inner beauty or strength into account, either. They looked like they belonged together. “They look happy,” Diana said.
More than that, Diana,” the priest said. “See the way he looks at her, and she at him. That is what real love looks like.” He paused, then said, “I remember when Lee used to look at you like this.”
Diana said nothing, but gripped the picture tighter.
“Diana,” Fr. Dominic insisted, “you cannot go through with this!”
She handed the photo back to the priest. “Thank you for your concern Father, but I will do whatever is necessary to uphold the honor of this house.”
“But, Diana …,” he tried to reason with her.
“There is nothing left to say,” she ended the conversation. “What’s been set in motion cannot be stopped.”
**********************
Location: Impromptu Briefing Room, Cargo Bay
Zoss checked his chronometer once again, stoically standing next to the wall that would serve as the briefing screen. He always made it a point to arrive 15 minutes early to briefings to check equipment and such when circumstances permitted. He went through the material in his head, formatting the political situation in his head.
Ali was ready, even eager, for some action. He was still pursuing Kalia, but she was playing hard to get. It was frustrating pretending that he was just some schmuck off the street, and that everything was alright. He wasn’t just anybody, and she should know that by now. It wasn’t alright--not by a long shot. He’d make her pay for making him wait. Thinking about how many different ways he was going to hurt her; how he’d teach her her place, how she’d beg him to f*** her; this was how he dealt with, but also fed, the sexual tension. The Arab sauntered into the conference room, nodded in acknowledgement to Zoss, then took his regular place at the table.
Pleg entered the ad-hoc briefing room ahead of the other Blackskulls members who were ordered to report. He was pleased to have something to do again. He needed to be useful now (extremely useful) in order to make up for past indiscretions.
Bran Brenar strolled into the Cargo Bay, striding confidently through the doors with his head up and a slight spring in his step. He nodded at Zoss as he picked a spot near the Jem Ha’dar commander, and … waited. While he wasn’t one to shy away from, or capitalize on, awkward social situations, he chose to keep his mouth shut and his eyes open – at least for now. (“No need to open my big mouth and ruin this before I even get my first payment!” he thought, while nervously looking around the cavernous storage space) He couldn’t help but notice the Ferengi rifleman (“Pleg? Was that the one Calvin warned me about?” Bran wondered), but ignored the motley assortment of mercenaries milling about the cargo bay, or still strolling in, for now, instead focusing his gaze dead ahead, waiting for the meeting to begin …
Blarox trodded into the room slowly - he was last - and slumped down in a chair, waiting for the meeting to begin.
Taking note of the new merc, Zoss checked again to make sure there was no one still missing from the meeting.
"Good morning, gentlemen." He began. The Jem'Hadar picked up a remote and activated a projector display.
The Ferengi focused his attention on the screen, while trying to disregard the latest addition to the group. There was something about him that felt....wrong. He sensed a mind and body in constant overdrive. He'd have to be wary not to upset this one. "Heh, let's have it then. What's the deal?"
Bran ‘Bigmouth’ Brenar turned, coolly, to re-assess ‘this Pleg character.’ His reputation for repeatedly shoving his foot in his mouth notwithstanding, Bran prided himself on his ability to “keep my mouth shut when it’s ABSOLUTELY NECESSARY”; the Ferengi’s nervous outburst was much more telling than Bran’s own, cumbersome, silence.
"The reason I have called you here today is because we've just been given another assignment." Zoss brought up a picture of several aliens of apparently the same race standing before a flag backdrop. There were also several other symbols, each taking turns cycling across the screen. "These are the Jhovans. They are inhabitants of the Hope One Dyson Sphere. It's a large space station that was constructed around a star many millenia ago. It's builders have since disappeared, and in their stead, several races have taken up residence within the sphere. The Jhovani being one of them." As Zoss spoke, the view changed to that of the Dyson Sphere and the territories of each species within, as well as the various Federation holdings in and around the sphere.
Distracted, Ali thought to himself, [What a pathetic looking bunch of losers. We’re supposed to teach them how to use, and care for, a weapon overnight? D***! Who do I see, if I want to bet on the opposing team? Never a bookie around when you’ve got a sure thing.]
"Whew." Pleg whistled. "Nice place they have there. Are we going into the real estate business? Cut me in for 20 percent!" He slapped his hands together excitedly and shifted in his chair. Maybe there were some profit potential in this mission for a savvy entrepreneur.
Bran grunted in disgust at Pleg’s greedy comments (drawing a strange look from Zoss). He then decided to speak up: “I’ve heard of this place … one of the Path’s engineers used to talk about the Dyson Spheres almost constantly – they’re supposed to be engineering masterpieces, but I’ve never seen one up-close.” Saying nothing further, Bran stood silent, nodding at the Jem Ha’dar as if to say ‘now you may continue.’
"I'm familiar with Federation databases." Blarox said. "As far as I know, they've only discovered two, one of them abandoned. Nobody knows who built them."
"Our mission will be to help a dissident Jhovani faction arm themselves with a shipment of weapons from Siridon, and to train them in the use of the weapons." Zoss turned to look the assembled mercs in the eyes. "We are also cleared to engage in hostilities should the need arise. My analysis indicates that will be a very probable scenario."
[Alright, we finally get to kill something,] Ali thought.
Now that the purpose of the meeting had been well defined, Pleg opted to stop with the quips. He was ready for serious work and it was important to know where to point the gun. Once he was duly informed, the enemies would have to be wary of this big lobed, sharp eyed marksman.
“Teaching the little guy how to ‘fight the power?’ Sounds like my kind of a job!” Bran remarked, breaking into Zoss’ lecture. “I don’t think I could blow up something THAT big, unfortunately …” His attempt at humor only reflected the deep sense of satisfaction he was already getting from his new ‘career’ - Bran wasn’t sure about the BlackSkulls gig when Calvin Daylek first told him about it, but “if every mission is going to be like THIS …”
Blarox snorted and chuckled, keeping his eyes fixed on the screen, but otherwise ignoring Bran.
"We will be training the dissidents to fight against this man-" Zoss changed the display to show another picture. "His name is Tanden Sorr, the democratically elected leader of the Jhovan Democratic Cooperative. He has been making aggressive moves as of late, and has ambitions for domination of the Dyson Sphere. Rumor has it that he's planning to remove his neighbors with military force. This is his right hand man....." The display changed to show the image of another alien. "This is General Bulga Matena. One of Sorr's most trusted and capable commanders. He is in charge of the Jhovan elite forces, the Rova'Sahn."
Even the picture of this man exuded a sense of alert in Pleg. He could imagine from the glint in his eyes and his steely bearing the type of dedication and professionalism he would require of the Rova'Sahn. He expected these elite forces of which Zoss spoke to be worthy opponents and ones to be cautious of.
Bran, completely focused on the ongoing briefing; carefully studied each picture, hanging on to Zoss’ every word. His people had gone up against countless tinpot dictators throughout history, and he sensed that this ‘Tanden Sorr’ was no exception. Although Bran was not, in any way, threatened or concerned about the JDC’s [Jhovan Democratic Cooperative] probable military superiority, he refused to take the mission lightly … Bran – probably more so than anyone else onboard – knew just how quickly ‘democratic’ governments turned to repression, brute force, and even outright genocide, whenever their enemies started making any real progress (“or it’s citizens demand equal treatment” he thought, quickly suppressing the painful, collective memory of his fellow Angosian descendants).
"This is our client." Zoss changed the display again, showing another alien. "His name is Maj'her Doksu, leader of the Jhovan dissidents. The dissidents are a loose coalition who have been repressed by the Sorr administration. They are not soldiers, and it falls on us to make them soldiers in the short time we've been given, and get them ready to face the Rova'Sahn." The display was shut off, and Zoss put the remote down as he turned to address his audience. "We may very well end up helping them fight this battle. Any questions?"
"No sir." Pleg stated flatly
Bran didn’t have any questions, so he only stood, nodding his agreement and understanding, saying nothing. The similarities between the Jhovians plight and that of his own people were close enough for his comfort level - he just hoped that the rest of the ‘BlackSkulls’ were aware of just how tricky managing an insurgency could be …
"I have, erm, one question. How thick is the hull of this Dyson sphere, as well as the average level of any earth or water placed on its inside surface?" Blarox asked, PADD at the ready to take the notes. "Hull alloy and presence of any critical systems in that hull would be useful as well."
Zoss consulted with the Hope One website,
http://www.pbem-portal.com/trek/hope1/ and upon completion of the query, looked up and gave Blarox the answer. "That would be 2400 meters thickness, composed of heavy-carbon neutronium, far exceeding the quality used in the construction of starships."
"So I won't be able to blow up buildings with plasma explosives then."
Zoss raised an eyebrow. "If you say so, Mr. Blarox."
Blarox smiled, and leaned back in his chair. "Pity."
Ali shook his head from side to side. He’d do his job, but knowing how to use a weapon, and waging war, were very different things. What’s-his-face’s ‘elite’ forces had the drop on them there. His thoughts turning back to Kalia once again, he thought, [They’re always so much prettier before you rough them up, but so much more agreeable once you did. Their soft, little “don’ts” sounded like “please.” Besides he enjoyed it. Kalia’s people were sturdy--Klingons. While the Risan in her blood might just enjoy it.]
********************
Location: Axel/ Gallant Wing
It was 1846 hours in the transporter room, and Zoss was standing stoically as usual next to his gigantic lump of a rucksack and his duffel bag. He had his custom SFMC Phaser Pulse Carbine with attached suppressor and CCO scope slung over his shoulder, and was wearing a vest with all the ammo he'd need for the trip.
Pleg carried his favorite sniper rifle and an assortment of small arms of different makes, including 1 Varon T Disruptor he liked to employ for psychological effect. Rather than a duffle he chose to carry a over-sized briefcase/ suitcase with his personal effects. He shuffled into the corner of the transporter room in order to keep his back to the wall and his eyes on the others.
Ali looked around for Kalia, and when he couldn’t find her, found a way to work this new situation to his advantage. [As a reporter, she’d want all the details. As a combatant, he could give her everything she needed during a private interview--everything she wanted, and everything she had coming to her,] he thought.
Bran Brenar glided into the transporter room, moving his tall, lanky frame quickly, almost gracefully, in spite of his heavy gear. A stuffed-to-splittin g backpack (evidently repaired, repeatedly, by spot laser welds and metal adhesive) was securely strapped to his shoulders, but everything else on his person that wasn't a weapon seemed to have some other practical, mission-related purpose. A sawed off, double-barreled, `dreadnought' grenade gun was secured at his back, and twin smart pistols were snapped into the sides his gun-belt; which, itself, was filled with a variety of live ammunition rounds and energy charges. His imposing outfit was topped off by twin belts of hand grenades crisscrossing his torso, along with the visible bulk and outlines of a handful of handy sharp and blunt objects. Bran was also rolling in a medium-sized lockbox – about 2 meters tall - on a metal frame, with casters and a handle. The chambered metal, military grade lockbox was filled with a variety of black-market, secondhand, and improvised explosive devices; along with all the necessary materiel and hardware ("forced neutrino inverter, gravity switches, kinetic detonators …" Bran clicked off the list in his head, making one last mental inventory before beam-out.) Besides a very small amount of clothes and personal effects, the interior compartment of the case his favorite toys: six, brand new & improved Dominion prototype `Houdini' mines and three, Starfleet grade, temporal disruptors!
Pleg took a careful inventory of the arsenal that Brenar had prepared. "Nice." He said to the Angosian. "But is your call-sign, 'Overkill?'
"I take it you all brought oral hygeine equipment?" Zoss remarked casually. "Though I do find your oral aromas fascinating, I'd rather do without." It was hard to tell whether the Jem'Hadar was being truthful or sarcastic. The way he spoke was so hard to read.
The Ferengi snickered. "I brought my best tooth file. Does that count?" He pulled it from his uniform pocket and presented it upheld in one hand. The other hand was doing the game show hostess wave. "Made by Tembo! This little gem is guaranteed to help you make short work of everything from gree worms and tube grubs. Take the edge off a bad day AND PUT IT ON YOUR TEETH!"
Bran couldn't help but chuckle at the Ferengi rifleman's display, even as he was scanning everyone's image and bio-signs into his sidearms' autofire-supression system.
The first three replies Ali thought of, in response to Zoss’ comment on bad breath, would get him backhanded and possibly dead. So, he opted for keeping quiet.
Zoss hit his comm badge. "Zoss to Captain Korav. We're ready."
=/\= Korav here. We got it. Good luck. =/\=
In a wink of an eye, they disappeared. The familiar Axel transporter room was replaced by that of the Gallant Wing.
Zoss was the first to step off the transporter padd, greeting the being that had been sent to fetch them. "Good day. My name is Zoss, unit commander."
"Well Met. I am Tanest." the armed & armored Orion said, four other large Orion Guards flanked him to either side behind. "Guardian Prime for Copernicus. Mister Al'Rasgal would like to speak with you. If you
would come this way?" and he added word he was somewhat uncomfortable with. "Please."
Tanest led them the short distance to a cargo bay. Entering, Tanest accompanied Axel's contingent to the large green man in the long purple frock coat decorated in gaudy current Orion fashion. Loud clashing colors screamed something quite absurd, the orange trousers with the flared legs, for instance to the light blue shirt with the white trim he wore under the coat perhaps. Beside him was his daughter who had propped herself by her elbows on a stack of shipping crates, her exquisite human oriental features and darker choices in clothing making a stark night and day contrast between the two.
"Good to see you." Thasin said directly to Zoss (noting the Ferengi with utter disdain he ignored him completely). I'm Thasin Al'Rasgal, and I own Copernicus." He waived Tanest off with a shooing motion. "How well equipped is your team to deal with twists and turns?" he asked as His daughter's look turned towards one of slight amusement. Thasin's slight smile also began to leak through a bit.
"We wouldn't be alive today if we weren't, Mr. Al'Rasgal." Zoss replied simply.
Thasin went to a small panel and tapped in a few codes and the outer wall of the Cargo hold came to life. In another second the entire cargo bay was a wash of holographic goodness. "As you can see,"
Thasin pointed decidedly down (which looked to be about 700 meters down now - even the floor had seemed to have disappeared) "we have more trainees than we expected thousands and thousands of ant-like
figures stirred below in a view of the Sphere's surface as the flying carpet ride continued (without a visible carpet). Suddenly their altitude over the pictured area of the Sphere's surface decreased rapidly to what seemed to be only a few hundred meters. The ants became the local aliens, the Johvan, spreading out as far as the eye could see, and there were far more of them than there were weapons in the current shipment. "They all want to learn." Thasin said and he tapped the controls again returning everyone to the prior cargo bay setting - with just a few differences, There were tables, chairs, Orion slaves, tapestries, cushions, wall curtains and all the luxurious appointments one would expect when hearing tales of the grand reputation of Orion hospitality! Music began, dancers appeared and Thasin spread his arms out wide "What can I say? I was a bit thirsty after our voyage here." he said with a mock wounded look, "Please! Have a seat."
[Now this is more like it,] Ali thought, his eyes on one of the slave girls. [I have got to get me one of those!]
Bran looked at the opulent scene of excess in front of him with his eyes wide, and his mouth hanging open in shock - "like some sort of yokel!" he admonished himself, before straightening up and re-gaining his mercenary bearing. As someone who grew up in some of the harshest living conditions imaginable, a very large part of him could never completely accept such extravagance as a reality for anyone (and another part was, almost instinctually, casing the area for valuables to pocket later).
"More holograms?" Zoss noted with curiosity. He had never quite encountered such luxury in his short life as a rogue Jem'Hadar. It was as if two extremes had collided, his own spartan existence meeting Orion extravagance. The atmosphere made him quite uncomfortable, and yet he still wanted to learn more about this society.
"No." Thasin grinned, "I assure you. The earlier scenes you entered were holograms," he said with a sideways glance, "This! Ahh,.. now this is reality!" As they moved Thasin brushed a hand lightly across
the cheek of a passing dancer. "Please, Please! All of you sit! I insist!" with a motion to the low table and floor cushions assembled around it. Serving girls appeared like magic as they moved towards it Thsin indicated one end of the table to Zoss while he moved toward the other end, Glasses were filled immediately as a mandolin-like melody began in the background, joined by lutes and the soft gentle
beat of drums in the distance. Food was carried in and laid out by the serving girls, enough to fill the stomachs of six parties their size. When Thasin had seated himself cross-legged he lifted his glass
to the Axel crewmembers "To Siridon Arms Incorporated. " he toasted.
Zoss raised the glass with an awkward curl of his lip. It was an attempt at being friendly, but such a concept had been left out of the Jem'Hadar genome. "To Copernicus." He said, downing his glass.
Pleg lifted his glass casually and tipped it towards both Al'Rasgal and Zoss. He then lifted the glass to his lips and poured its entire contents down his throat in one smooth motion. "Ahhhhhh. You have impeccable taste in fine liqueurs, Mr. Al'Rasgal."
"Well, then …" Bran Brenar cheerfully muttered, quickly trotting – almost skipping – towards the nearest couch, rolling his lock-box off to the side. He encountered a brief moment of confusion and social
awkwardness as he contemplated the low, fluffy sofa at his feet. The massive inventory of gear on his person made sitting down, comfortably, a practical impossibility. Likewise, his natural distrust and paranoia of strangers – particularly ones with the `colorful' reputations of Orion traders – made the prospect of disarming himself in front of this crowd somewhat distressing …
"Ahh, screw it …" he thought, opening up the holographic, hidden compartment in the gear-box and dumping his excess inventory into it (pausing occasionally to shift items around; making sure everything
collapsed and fit securely). Although he kept his left hip sidearm; "I'm not going to turn down a free meal, drinks, AND a chance to get laid!" Bran thought, sitting down into the – unbelievably comfortable – couch and watching the floor show.
The dancers began their formal dance now. Four exotic beauties off to either side of the table just far enough away to not overwhelm, while close enough to merit more than occasional attention.
A three dimensional image came up in mid-air, hovering over the table to return their attention to the business at hand.
"This is Pynchon's Reach, where you will be conducting the training." a map of the sphere's surface obediently formed up. "Formerly, Federation Marines used the area for field training, so we have ample
room for training, proving grounds, weapons ranges and such available to us. Over here," Thasin indicated as the map reformed to focus in, "is area which has been set-up for your people. You will find that if anything you need is not there, it will be made available upon request. You will want to establish your own security perimeter of course and there is a warehouse available for your use if you should require it."
"Formidable army you've raised, Mr. Al'Rasgal." Zoss's eyes scanned the map, thinking of all the possible training sites they'd be able to create, and how they'd go about doing it with an army that size. "I believe that will be most sufficient for the task at hand."
Taking his eyes off the exquisite alien beauties dancing seductively, if not subtly, in the far corner of the room, Bran turned his attention to the 3-D mission briefing. When he heard the Orion discuss their training grounds, he immediately perked up; “I DO need someplace to test some things out, but …” he looked at backpack at his feet, then the lockbox sitting next to it (as if he could see it’s contents through the triple reinforced, alloy composition of the traveling storage crate). “… damn, I don’t have nearly enough here to test out, AND use on the mission!” he realized, finishing his earlier thought. “EXCUSE ME!” Bran announced, getting up and walking over to the conference table. “I’m gonna need some supplies: duotronics, explosive compounds, energy charges, portable control units …”
<<Zoss: So, get them already.>>
The music changed to a more up tempo beat and the dancers began a new dance involving the flash of ancient ornamental blades, a show to be sure as blades flew from one dancer to another through the air.
Further business discussion was terminated until everyone had a chance to relax. After this the music continued but the dancers slowly disappeared
"Can you begin tomorrow?" Thasin asked Zoss.
"Of course." Zoss turned to look at the other members of his party. "I'm quite sure my squad is as well."
In his periphery, Bran saw "Pokey" glance in his direction, and the Angosian `demolitions expert' gave the Jem'Hadar commander an acknowledging, if not somewhat annoyed, wave of recognition (before turning his back to the group; returning his search for the missing women). "Where the hell did they go?!" he thought, frustrated, and a bit disappointed at their mysterious disappearance – he paced the area in front of the small stage, looking for a hidden exit, and looking like a lost little boy waiting, impatiently, for his mother to return …
Ali had also enjoyed the show, and would have wanted it to continue. But, he wasn’t about to wander about the stage like that idiot. Besides, he had Kalia. Who needed a slave girl; or anything else that had been ridden that hard by so many, when you had quality snatch like the half Klingon/half Risian woman waiting to be taken.
"Excellent" Thasin said, "Subuki and I," Thasin indicated his daughter. "must see about a planet I'm having delivered soon. Ms. Helton would also like to meet with you shortly after you've had the opportunity to adjourn yourself to your sphereside facilities. She has some ideas about a license agreement she would like to discuss with you." Tanest suddenly appeared over Thasin's shoulder with a message of some sort. Thasin nodded after looking at the Padd and handed it to Subuki and they both rose. "Tanest will see you out
whenever you are finished, My daughter have another business matter to attend to." He finished off his drink and reached back, placing the empty glass on a passing serving tray. "Well Met Mister Zoss."
Zoss nodded his head respectfully, "A pleasure, Mr. Al-rasgal."
[He’s having a planet delivered soon?] Ali must have heard wrong. He rubbed his right ear without thinking, and continued to listen in on the conversation.
"Behave yourselves." Zoss told the other squad members. "Have your fun, but don't embarrass us. I want a meeting outside my quarters in four hours for accountability."
“Yes, Sir,” Ali said.
"He certainly knows how to spoil the fun." Pleg whispered to anyone who was close enough and willing to listen. "Servant!" He shouted to the nearest Orion woman who was carrying a tray of hors d'oeuvres. Once, he'd gotten her attention he flicked his fingers to motion her towards him. When she was within a few feet, he added, "Be a dear and find me some gree worms. There's got to be some here somewhere. And make sure they're live!"
Bran only smiled broadly at the `at ease' clearance Zoss just voiced. Rubbing his palms together excitedly, he headed back to get his gear, already planning to exploit the Orions' hospitality as much as possible …
********************
Location: Sphere Surface, Pynchon's Reach, Just outside the Johvan Democratic Cooperative
Gothar could see the Dreamrunner hovering not far at all overhead, the Deneva Cloud. Soon it would be joined by others. and a client vessel or maybe more than one. He hadn't really thought Doksu would
have agreed to train his people, but attrition was a bitch, the points had been well made and if nothing was done about it quickly there wouldn't be a rebellion left.
Why should anyone tell him anything, after all, his job was just to work with the Johvan on trade & culture
Maj'her approached and said "I'm sorry for the poor turnout. Many could not make the journey.'
Gothar looked around "It will just have to do for now then." he said gruffly, putting up airs. "You've instructed your people as we requested?" he asked.
"I have." he said with a touch of gold appearing in his eyes which faded into a metallic grey as he turned towards Gothar placing a hand on his shoulder. "They are ready."
Go watched as all the color drained from Doksu's eyes to a pure white and laughed, "I've called another ship, but don't worry." He said as the yellow crept into Doksu's eyes. "It's bringing more food and
accommodations. " Gothar shrugged, and looked apologetic, "I'll be honest with you now. We weren't expecting this many to show."
Doksu smiled, a green shimmer and a warmth making it's way to the surface, "As I said, I regret the poor turnout, more will be here tomorrow. The day is green my friend." and he patted the stunned Gothar's shoulder before walking away.
"Damn! Gothar set off in the opposite direction towards the renovated landing strip. Copernicus engineers from the OSV Pathfinder had spent four weeks preparing the site. Power, water, sewage and a host of
other amenities had been either restored to Pynchon's Reach. While leaving the place much the same by outward appearances. The place had laid in a state of ruin ever since Sorr had come to power and expelled all aliens from the Sphere's surface. but this was in fact the oldest known settlement he knew of that Alpha and Beta quadrant races ever set up, along with Delta Quadrant refugees. Originally civilians, and then becoming more of a Federation concern as an outpost of sorts for them. Finally it had served as a UFP Science Outpost.
As the little Tellarite mulled through the crowds of Johvan that had flocked to it's old streets he reminded himself of just how smart he was to have chosen the place for a Rebel Base. Maybe he'd even get a bonus, he thought, for his ingenuity! Maybe he'd get fired, he thought, or thrown in a brig! Go snorted with delight, There's no place like home. He started to count the number of times he'd been fired or thrown into a brig and lost count.
Still it really was a good choice. When the place had been a Feddie Outpost their Marines had trained here. There was plenty of space here. It was far enough away from the JDC that they paid little attention to it, and the fleeters considered it a ruin of sorts, both physically and in the context of their hopes for themselves here on the Sphere. So they wouldn't be looking here either.
The assembled Johvan tended to shun the buildings Copernicus had refurbished for them. It was the roofs of course. No self-respecting Johvan built a roof on a dwelling if it could be built without one. Hiding from Sapieo was taboo. The result, was an outdoor fair atmosphere with the Johvan setting up booths and pitching temporary shelter together willy-nilly all over the place.
Entering one of the plasteel structures, he walked up behind the big lug sitting in the chair and smacked him pretty damned hard.
Charlie spun about ready to swing, until he saw Go (who had wisely stepped back). The Nausican just shook his head "What?"
"I need to know how many there are." Go said.
"Roughly eighty-five hundred, with more slowly streaming in all the time."
Go let out a long low whistle. "And we only expected a few hundred, tops!" Go kicked back in a swivel chair and then quickly leaned forward towards Charlie. "Wanna hear the best part?"
"I'm not sure,... Do I?" Charlie asked.
"Doksu said he was sorry for the poor turnout! There'll be more here tomorrow!" and Gothar began to laugh uncontrollably.
"Yeah, well laugh now, Thasin's going to kill you when he gets the bill for all this."
"Yeah!" Gothar laughed, "Maybe he'll just have the mercs use me for Target Practice!"
******************
Location: Planet Cretanus
Timeline: Shortly after the Axel's return to Qo'Nos
Saliss flicked his tongue to sense the air for the twelfth time in as many minutes. He was agitated and nervous about the recent group of children that had been brought in to him for treatment for the plague. For some reason he felt as though these kids were different. He had the odd sensation that their strain was....worse. After the nurse had taken the boy's vitals, the nurse had led him directly to Saliss for a thorough check. The skin on the child's arm was darkening and peeling-off practically as he watched. How much longer, he wondered, before the group of assorted medics, physicians, and other medical scientists figured out what had caused the myriad symptoms that made up the Cretanus Plague? He and Andy had been among the first medical personnel to be allowed in from the outside, but the worsening situation had compelled the colony's leaders to let in more. Now, worn, tired, and defeated, Sailiss was ready to leave. He had seen enough suffering...enough death...to last a lifetime.
Expertly, Saliss administered the hypospray of the serum that had been designed to slow the plague. Then, he administered a second injection to anesthetize the boy. Once the boy was under, he used a laser scalpel to cut above the affected area and removed the skin himself under protection of a sterilization field. The procedure continued routinely with the replacement of the dermal layer with artificial grafts. "That will hold for a little while." He murmured to himself.
He tossed the closing instrument back onto the equipment tray. Blood smeared the front of his smock. The blood of an innocent, young boy. Saliss looked down onto the placid face of the sleeping youth. If the child only knew that this was just the beginning.... The Saurian pulled off his medical garb and went to scrub up for the next patient.
-------Later that day-------
"The minute we get a communiqué from Zoss or anyone official telling us to return I'm outta here." Saliss said wearily to Andy, who was seated on a nearby chair, looking every bit as tired as he felt. "This whole situation is incomprehensible. I am as good a medic as most, but this is band-aid treatment we're doing here for a cancer of epidemic proportions!" Looking at his companion he could see his own anguish. "How are you holding up today?", he asked sympathetically.
“Everything hurts,” Andy replied. “My legs ache, my head is pounding, my eyes burn, but most of all, my heart is terribly heavy--these people are dying, and there is nothing I can do to help.”
Not knowing how else to respond, Saliss simply said. "I'm sorry."
There was a ringing on the subspace receiver. In actuality, it was a crude device using the technology available jury-rigged to amplify the signal range of an old Federation subspace antenna.
The shrill keening of the receiver made Saliss hiss in anger. The machine was doing all that it could to lock on to the signal. Unfortunately, it was taking far too many seconds for the lizard man.
“Maybe you should answer that,” Andy observed. (He was still with a patient.)
=/\= Saliss? Andy? This is Zoss. Do you read? =/\= The squad leader's garbled voice could be heard over the speakers. It sounded very digitalized due to signal interference from bouncing off so many satellites.
"Yes, we are here...both of us. Proceed." Saliss looked from Andy to the receiver and back again, wondering what this could be about. He dared not hope that this was a response to the words he'd just voiced within the confines of the room.
Andy finished bandaging the man’s arm. His patient never moved, possibly never felt anything. His eyes were dull, and he hardly spoke.
=/\= I'm on Qo'Nos, so I'll make this quick. This is a very expensive call. What is your situation on Cretanus? =/\=
=/\="More medical relief has arrived. Unfortunately, no one is making any tremendous headway towards ending this dreaded plague. I fear that this situation will last a long time. If this truly was a Federation experiment gone awry, it was one of the most ill considered, cruel, and unjust things...."=/\= Saliss trailed off weakly as Andy warned him to stop with waving hands and a shaking head.
You could never tell who might be listening, Andy tried to warn his lizard friend. There was no hard evidence linking the Feds to this illness, and the Feds weren’t going to allow people to say that they were. Working this close to the dead and the dying, it wouldn’t raise any eyebrows, if they contracted the disease.
=/\= Good. We're ready to get the squad back together for another job. We're to make our way to HQ on Qo'Nos. Conclude your business there and find your way to the nearest starport for transport to the Alpha Quadrant. Your travel finance cards have been supplied with the necessary funds to make the trip. =/\=
=/\="Yes sir. Thank you, sir." =/\= Saliss stammered.
“How in the hell did you do that?” Andy asked, amazed.
Andy's comment made the Saurian chuckle raspingly. "It's a gift." He said bowing in mock acceptance of the offered credit for the recall. "Well, I'm not about to look a gift horse in the mouth - as the human saying goes. I will be contacting the nearest travel agent post-haste!" The mixture of relief and glee in Saliss' voice was unmistakable.
*********************
Location: Axel Gym & Corridors
Timeline: Between Gallant Wing & Return to Qo'Nos
The news of the Axel's imminent return to Qo'Nos wasn't sitting well with Roquel Atrell. During her last visit to the Klingon homeworld she had been arrested and held against her will in a regional detention facility for possible espionage against the Klingon Empire. Of course, it didn't happen, but that didn't stop the Klingon's from saying it did. Upon her escape she had approached a Klingon male on the pretense of offering him sexual favors for protection. She had very nearly been raped before she even made it 100 yards. So, Qo'Nos wasn't her ideal choice for a vacation spot.
She'd been in the "gym" working her frustrations out on a punching bag for nearly 45 minutes when Daius Cha'DeMara, the Axel's Chief Engineer peered in the doorway.
{Daius}
Roquel threw a flurry of punches at the bag, sweat glistening across her bare shoulders, arms and forehead, before she acknowledged Daius' presence. "Hey Dai. I haven't seen you for a while. Are the demands of being the CEO keeping you busy?" Roquel unwrapped two towels from her hands and laid them on a weight bench. She'd been using them in lieu of boxing gloves, which weren't available in the small workout area. "Well...," She smiled knowingly. "it's all part of the job. Glad it's yours...and not mine!"
{Daius}
"Yeah, well, I've got some frustrations that needed working out." Roquel sat on the bench and used one of her discarded towels to wipe her arms and forehead dry. "You know, I'm not all that fired up about making a return to Qo'Nos just yet. I'ts too soon. I hope we aren't planning to get up close and personal with too many boneheads." Looking up at her friend, Roquel belatedly realized her faux pas. She hadn't given any thought to the fact that Romulan's foreheads weren't smooth either. "Oops." She murmured weakly. "No offense."
{Daius}
"A wedding? Who's Diana?"
{Daius}
Roquel remembered now. She'd heard a little about her following the Honor Blade fiasco. She wished the woman well, but she couldn't see what the human was doing marrying a Klingon. "I am NOT going to be there. I can guarantee that."
Roquel used the mention of the wedding as a seque to her next subject. "Daius, I need a man. It's been...." She started ticking off the months on her fingers. When she got to her second hand, she raised both arms in resignation. "Too long since I last...you know. Is there something wrong with me?" She looked sheepishly at her friend for confirmation that the answer was no.
*********************
Location: Axel bridge
One thing Korav hated about space travel was the relativistic effect of warp travel. Time slowed for those traveling faster than light. In fact, that's the only reason why the major spacefaring fleets granted shore leave, to allow the ship crews to age at somewhat the same age as everyone else.
For this particular voyage, the Axel was precisely 8 hours behind Qo'Nos standard time, meaning that though the Axel was arriving at 1254 hours Qo'Nos prime meridian time, it was 0454 onboard the Axel. Normally, Korav was still awake at this hour, but unfortunately, the hour also happened to coincide with the only time all week that Korav needed to sleep.
A groggy, and abnormally grouchy Captain stomped onto the bridge and plopped down in the seat. Tonight was Alton's turn to man the controls, and it was almost time for Selvani to take his turn at the helm.
"I take it we've arrived...." Korav growled.
"That's right, sonny. Qo'Nos." Alton said, grimacing a bit at the sight. "You know, in my day, the only way I would've seen this planet is if I were flying with an armada of Starfleet warships."
"Ah huh...." Korav muttered, rubbing his eyes. "Thanks for the history lesson, old man. Now hail ground control, or whatever the hell you do."
Alton sighed as he complied with the Captain's instructions. Moments later he turned to report the docking location they'd been assigned.
Selvani, yawning and carrying a cup of coffee stepped into the bridge and looked around slowly as if trying to remember where he was before smiling and taking a sip of his coffee.
"Well, there's my relief." Alton said as he got up out of the helmsman's chair. "Mornin kid. She's all yours."
“Morning Korav, Alton.” He walked up to his controls and took the controls gladly. “Where to Korav?” he asked taking another sip of coffee.
"Docking bay 5, Selvani." Korav stopped himself from calling him Sel. It felt too much like he was talking to his old XO, Selvine. "Jitka city orbital dock or some crap like that...." He held his head for a moment to try and clear the fog.
Selvani laughed, “Might do to learn the names if not the pronunciation being captain and all.” He said as he pulled the ship into a waiting orbit to be given access.
Ignoring Selvani, Korav punched the intercom to alert the rest of the ship. If he was going to have his sleep interrupted, so was everyone else.
=/\= Goooood morning crew!! This is your captain speaking. We are now in high orbit above Qo'Nos! The Siridon Arms folks are gonna be repairing and refueling the Axel. Everyone's dismissed until..... =/\= Korav checked his chronometer =/\= 0800 tomorrow. That is all. =/\=
In her quarters, Roquel laid her book face down in her lap and listen attentively to the captain's message. 'Qo'Nos! Oh crap!' She thought. 'What did I do to deserve this.' Roquel knocked her head against the wall next to her bunk a few times just to help FEEL her aggravation over the turn of events. "They aren't going to MAKE me get off, are they?" She asked aloud, as though the intercom was open and Korav was actually listening. Then, she set to thinking about how she could be valuable aboard ship during the repair & refuel so that she wouldn't have to get off on the cursed planet.
After hanging up the receiver, Korav slunk back in his chair. "Hey Selvani." He said.
“Yeah boss?” he asked taking another sip of coffee and wondering what would come out of the man’s brain next. Bad enough when he was awake.
"What're you gonna be doing planetside?" He asked.
Selvani thought for a moment before answering, “I haven’t really decided, first planetfall since escaping Trill. What are you planning?” he asked judging the speed at which Axel would be forced to leave the atmosphere.
"Me? Whaddya think?" Korav said with a smirk. "I'm gonna get smashed. Hopefully, I'll wake up at 0730 tomorrow morning in a gutter, or more preferably at some wild-ass Klingon drinking party."
Laughing he took another drink of coffee, “I don’t think anything can beat the time you ended up walking outside the ship.” He laughed looking forward to what was to come.
*********************
Location: En Route to Alpha Quadrant
The Bringloidi/ Mariposan cargo vessel made best speed from its destination in the Delta Quadrant back to its home base in the Ficus Sector of the Alpha Quadrant. The mission it had been on was to supply cloned livestock to budding colonies. Several of these colonies were set up with short term food supplies. It was inevitable that they would need to have farm animals to create a long term solution.
The Bringloidi/ Mariposan's were only too happy to provide aid using the expertise of their unusually dualistic society. They had never anticipated this future for their people, however; it was perfectly natural. The income earned from this trade helped provide funds for new housing, schools, and facilities of all sorts now needed on their rapidly repopulating world.
Captain Granger O'dell IIII was extremely surprised at having a paying job on the return run. A member of a paramilitary group called The Blackskulls, had contacted the Ark Mercy as it passed the planet Cretanus with an offer to pay for transport to the Alpha Quadrant. The side trip from Cretanus to the Hope One Dyson Sphere had been a bonus. Odell's crew had never seen a construct of the size and complexity of the Dyson Sphere. Already stories of the immense world/ station were being told and embellished. These tales would undoubtedly entertain their families for generations to come.
----Somewhere below decks in a space converted from livestock pens into an ad-hoc guest section----
"This place reeks worse than...welll....almost anything! The Ferengi, Pleg, swore. "I can't believe that they don't have any crew spaces that they could give us on this tub. Aren't we paying enough to be treated like real people?" Pleg wrinkled up his nose and tried to swat away the stench. "I haven't smelled this much sh*t in my entire life!" He shot daggers with his eyes at Saliss, who was seated across the open area at a table and playing cards with Andy, the groups other medic.
“Mr. Congeniality is right,” Ali said. “You’d think SAI would have better connections.”
Zoss chose not to answer the gripes and complaints being thrown about him. He instead focused on his Vulcan meditation techniques he'd learned while on Hope One. Of all the organic species in the galaxy, the Vulcans were the single largest threat to the Jem'Hadar during the Dominion Wars. The only reason the war dragged on as long as it did was because of the Vulcans' pathetic social philosophies limiting their true potential as a warrior race.
While the Klingons could match a Jem'Hadar in physical combat, and a Human could outwit a Jem'Hadar in tactical engagements, the Vulcans matched, and were sometimes even superior to the warrior race in all aspects of combat. Aside from their pathetic philosophy of pacifism, Zoss held great admiration for the Vulcans, and as such, sought to learn more about them, if only to be able to combat them if the occasion ever arose.
And now, he was employing a basic meditation technique to help him combat his one weakness: ketracel. He'd been unable to locate a suitable source on Hope One, and his supply was dwindling. He was carefully rationing what he had left so that he wouldn't be reduced to a shivering mess when the transport arrived on Qo'Nos.
"Clearly you've never been aboard a Bolian prison barge." Blarox said. He paused. "There's no sanitation."
Saliss heaved a huge sigh of exasperation as he got up from the table and approached the others. "I am sincerely sorry about the outcome of my travel arrangements, but I must point out that you were not having any luck getting your own transport and this one was willing to divert to Hope One to pick you up." Scratching his chin in thought, he added. "I supposed I should have checked further into the TYPE of transport that the Ark Mercy was before agreeing to terms. I still don't know why Copernicus wouldn't send you on one of their ships. Did you do something to upset them?"
Zoss decided to grace this question with a reply. "Blew up an arms shipment meant for the side that WE were supposed to be fighting, exposed the Corporation for trying to profit off of both sides of the war, killed half a dozen Federation personnel by accident, tried killing several Jhovan leaders...."
“Oh, and I suppose they weren't very happy about the crater now occupying the former location of the Jhovan government building." Blarox said, chortling. "Which, well, quite amusingly ties in with a lot of the points Mr. Zoss has just decided to point out."
Saliss blinked his double eyelids in mild surprise. "Oh, I see. Well in that case perhaps you should be satisfied with what we have." At that, he returned to his seat and resumed the card game he and Andy were playing and laid out the winning hand. "Fizzbin."
“Again?”
"Well I would have played it sooner, if I hadn't been distracted." Saliss replied. "Must I apologize to everyone?"
“Apparently,” Andy smiled. “Things could be worse. At least no one here is dying--dying, and us unable to do a damn thing about it.” The Andorian was still deeply disturbed by their last assignment. Cretanus was a plague planet, where alleviating the suffering was the best the medics could hope for.
A comely young woman approached the guest area, but paused before entering. "Are ye' all decent?" She asked in a lilting Irish accent. When no one responded she took that as a yes and came in further. She stood, hands on hips, facing the majority of the travelers. "The Captain asked me ta see if there be anything ye' be needin."
“Anything?” Ali smirked, as he positioned himself between the girl and the doorway.
Moira could sense the wantonness in the darker skinned man and became nervous. She staggered back a few steps into the room until she found herself next to a shoeing table. She grabbed a steel horse shoe lying on its surface. Moira grabbed it quickly and waved it in front of her like she might a knife with the rounded toe end towards her. "I be not using this for luck sir." She said with an ill-founded confidence. "Rather I intend if necessary to insert this by force up your nose, if you don't back-off! A Bringloidi woman doesn't take kindly to the look and mannerisms you be showin'."
“I only want to show you,” Ali paused and moved in closer, “my sincere appreciation.”
"ALI!" Zoss barked. It was a curious contrast to the expression on his face. The Jem'Hadar seemed serene, Zen-like even in his meditation pose. "Stand down."
“Just havin’ a wee bit ‘o fun with the lass,” Ali matched the girl’s Irish brogue, but backed away at Zoss’ command.
The momentarily tense situation was disarmed completely as the Ark Mercy decelerated extremely quickly. Nearly everyone and everything in the room was pitched to the deck. Klaxons immediately sounded throughout the ship. Saliss reached out to offer his friend a hand up.
“Thanks,” Andy said, as he accepted the Saurian’s help.
From the floor, Pleg looked about like a dear caught in headlights. "What the hell was that?"
Nearby Moira stammered the only reply she could. "I dinna know." She was pleased to see her offender to be farther across the room than before. She stood and self consciously wiped bits of hay from her plaid woolen skirt and hair. Then she noticed her gypsy style top was sliding too far down her shoulder for her liking. "I'd better go check." Moira ignored all comments behind her and made for the exit.
**********************
Location: Androssi Vessel, Flurry
Aboard the Flurry, Overseer Glyn watched the events unfolding on the main viewscreen. The Mariposan transport's sudden drop to sub-light had gone procisely as planned. The ship was venting plasma from it's ventral warp engine, while it struggled to adapt to the loss of the warp bubble. "REPORT!" The overseer ordered.
The worker at tactical spoke up instantly as he had been trained to do. "Overseer, the arrester has worked perfectly. The target vessel is now at .6 sub-light and decelerating."
With a nod to the conn officer, Glyn indicated he was ready for his report as well.
"Overseer, I am holding at 200 kilometers behind the target vessel. Hull stress is within parameters. The alien ship should be down to 1/4 impulse momentarily."
Each of the workers knew better than to add personal thoughts to their reports. In the pit all was quiet as they awaited the next command. The crew efficiently adjusted for all the variables dealing with the manipulation of the arrester beam, hull stress, speed, and anything else necessary without a word.
Glyn returned his eyes to the screen and waved for his XO to join him. Sub-Overseer Jarri snapped to attention at his right side. "The workers are performing adequately. It is a credit to your instruction. If all goes well today, I will put in a word with our sponsor."
The praise may have been a bit premature, but Glyn believed in giving credit where it was due. He stroked his beard absently as he continued to watch the view screen. His long hair hung in a tight braid down the back of his head and over his right shoulder. His hand moved from his beard to the braid and flipped it backward, where it swayed before settling to mid-back. "Proceed with organizing a boarding party. Once the target vessel reaches 1/4 impulse I will have the worker at communications to open a channel so I may outline our demands."
"At once, overseer." Jarri replied with a salute. The XO was a man who prided himself upon living to the scruples of Androssi decorum. He showed no emotion in his work, offered no emotion to others, and functioned with robotic efficiency.
He took note of the comment, but took care not to grace it with an emotional response. Efficiency and a successful mission were all that was needed to respond to praise. Statute 35 Alpha, Section 5 of the Androssi Officers' Etiquette Guide.
Jarri stepped into the turbolift, flanked by two workers who had taken the silent cue from their overseer. The sub-Overseer took note of the two workers with him, shifting his gaze back to the turbolift doors once he was satisfied that neither of the morons showed signs of trying to kill him at this critical moment.
He could see it all played out: the workers would kill Jarri, remove his nose rings, and lead the attack themselves. The moron who did the deed would return to stand before Glyn and claim credit for the success. Big promotion, money for all, hurrah hurrah. Workers were so predictable.
Stepping off of the turbolift, Jarri entered the armory, where he armed himself with a modified Panshar, designed for dealing with the lesser species called the Humans. It exploited a critical weakness of the Human body, the central nervous system. The pathetic creatures had been designed without redundant nerve transmitters, having all of their neural information travel along one single organic chord running down their dorsal section. Typical. The Panshar's electric surge would make short work of these beings' nerve centers, causing a painful reaction followed by paralysis and a prolonged death.
Quickly making the announcement, Jarri made his way to the transporter room, quickly inspecting the first few waves of Workers and Masters (a lesser class of officers) to be sent on the boarding action. He then joined his group on the third wave of the assault.
A good officer never goes into action first. He uses his workers to test the strength of his opponent before inserting himself in the area where he is safest, and most needed. Statute 12, Section 2 Androssi Officers' Etiquette Guide.
He allowed himself a mental smirk of anticipation as he signaled the Overseer that the boarding parties had been assembled. The whole process had taken 3.5 minutes.
Overseer Glyn spoke simultaneously to the captain of the target vessel and over an open channel within his own ship. =/\= "My name is Overseer Glyn, of the Androssi Salvager, Flurry. I have been tasked by our sponsor to detain this ship and remove any cloning equipment of interest. We will also be downloading any portion of the database pertaining to the cloning process. The cooperation of the target vessels crew is not needed. Interference is to be met with all necessary force. It is up to them to determine whether they will live or die. Once the objective is completed the vessel is to be hobbled. That is all. Boarding will commence in 5 minutes." =/\=
At the end of the Captain’s announcement, Jarri promptly hit a timer on his helmet headset. A numerical indicator appeared on the lower left hand corner of his vision, counting down the time until the boarding was to begin.
The displays he was seeing were hooked up to the ship’s computer mainframe, routing data from the ship and any systems connected to it directly to a micro processor in his helmet, displaying the data in manageable menu tables on the edges of his vision.
He controlled the data display via a surgically implanted neural uplink chip (recently scavenged from old Borg technology), allowing him to access information with literally a thought. Such tools helped to make Jarri the ruthlessly efficient officer that he’d prided himself on being.
As the timer counted down, Jarri quickly browsed through each team leader’s helmet cam feeds. Each team leader had special optical receivers built into his helmet to feed information back to the ship. Jarri was able to tap into this feed, allowing him to see exactly what his team leaders were seeing.
Satisfied, Jarri allowed the timer to run down to zero. Once done, he gave the order to the transporter master.
The first wave beamed over. The workers automatically fanned out and cleared the corridors, working their way to the bridge, engineering, the computer core, etc. The workers had rehearsed their roles well, and executed their tasks with ruthless efficiency.
Multiple door breaching charges could be heard throughout the ship, the thunderous *whump* noises shook deckplates and reverberated throughout the cargo holds.
Screams could be heard as the crew of the Ark Mercy found themselves caught off-guard by the lightning attack. They were thrown to the deck, stunned, and cuffed.
Jarri watched emotionlessly as the team leaders secured their objectives. Satisfied, he made ready to beam in with the second wave. He chose a secure location in one of the herbivore mammal containment bays where the team had set up a temporary command post.
As Jarri stepped onto the transporter pad, he took a moment to go over the plan once more, ensuring that every element was going according to plan. He then gave the word to initiate transport.
It never hurts to reassess the plan. Statute 1, section 3, Androssi Officers’ Etiquette Guide.
--------On the Ark Mercy’s bridge-------
Captain Granger O'dell shook his head to clear the disorientation from his mind. He had been thrown from his command chair to a point approximately twelve feet away. He reached up to armrest of the nearest chair, which gratefully was bolted to the floor. All around him there were crewmen in a similar state. The bridge engineer, who had been standing at his station to the rear of the bridge, had been thrown the furthest and was badly injured; bloody and broken. O'dell responded immediately. "Marcus, Connel...get him to the infirmary."
The navigator got to his feet and reviewed the sensors to determine what could have caused the 'accident'. Gripping the sides of his console for support, he called out. "Captain, there is a ship behind us, at a distance of approximately 200 kilometers. It has some type of tractor beam on us and it seems to be creating an immense drag force against us. The warp field has collapsed." Sparks burst from damaged systems and smoke began to fill the bridge.
"A ship? What ship? How could they get a tractor lock on us while we were at warp?" The captain asked incredulously. "Open a chan..." He attempted to say to the communications officer, but was cut off.
"Captain, we are receiving an audio message. The officer shouted, cutting off his captain's order.
"Audio? No visual?" O'dell queried. Not waiting for the answer he ordered. "Let's hear it."
By now the remaining 4 man bridge crew had recovered from the jolt that had pulled the Ark Mercy from warp.
_________________________________
Overseer Glyn spoke simultaneously to the captain of the target vessel and over an open channel within his own ship. =/\= "My name is Overseer Glyn, of the Androssi Salvager, Flurry. I have been tasked by our sponsor to detain this ship and remove any cloning equipment of interest. We will also be downloading any portion of the database pertaining to the cloning process. The cooperation of the target vessels crew is not needed. Interference is to be met with all necessary force. It is up to them to determine whether they will live or die. Once the objective is completed the vessel is to be hobbled. That is all. Boarding will commence in 5 minutes." =/\=
____________________________________
"I cannot respond, captain. It is a one way communication." The officer stated apologetically.
Captain O'dell ran a nervous hand through his graying hair. "It's O.K., Duncan." He responded reassuringly. "But, what the hell do we do now?" No one on the bridge was able to give him an answer he could use. They were looking to HIM for the answers.
O'dell's mind was only filled with questions.
(1) Who was the alien talking to? - It sounded like he was talking to him ,but maybe more.
(2) What were they going to do to his ship? - He had some ideas (none good). "....Hobbled." The alien had said. Granger O'dell transported a bunch of agrarian Bringloidi. He knew what hobbling was."
(3) How was his crew going to defend against this attack? - The Ark Mercy's weapons would be insignificant against the alien vessel, and personal weapons....hah...a handful of phasers, rakes and hoes!
(4) What can I do in 4.5 minutes to keep us alive?!
"Don't fight their beam." He told the navigator. "Allow us to come to a dead stop."
"Dead..." Duncan whispered in fear.
Capt. Granger O'dell had an epiphany. He had a trained mercenary group in the cargo hold! In a very un-captainly manner, he dashed from the bridge in a time of crisis. "I have an idea. When we are boarded, do not interfere." He said on the run, then skidded to a halt in the turbolift. Duncan inform the rest of the crew not to get in the way of these Androssi."
"Where....?" Feron asked, appalled that the captain was leaving the bridge.
"No time." O'dell responded. Then the turbo-lift doors closed.
-------Back to Mercs--------
Zoss promptly opened his eyes. He was afraid that this would happen. "Everyone, grab your weapons." He said as he got up.
Blarox looked up, smiling. "My, erm, rifle is rather disassembled at the moment and I still need..." A sharp look from Zoss was enough to dissuade him from finishing this sentence. "Yes, hrm, I'd better hurry."
In close quarters, a phaser had definite advantages. Ali preferred the kind used by the Bajoran military--very reliable, tough and easy to get a hold of. He had the Bajoran phaser in hand, and at the touch of a button, it was charged. He kept a Federation model at his back, hidden by his jacket. He quickly double-checked that, as well as the utility knife on his belt, he had other concealed weapons: throwing knifes, piano wire, a grenade or three.
Bran Brenar’s offensive field compliment was limited to a single, dreadnought capable, artillery launcher and his two smart-pistols. He kept a single belt of grenades – both as ammo for the ‘shotgun’ style RPG [[Rocket Propelled Grenade –launcher – Ken]], but also a few “just for fun!” –otherwise, he was ‘traveling light.’ Save for the bowie knife shoved in his boot, and a handful of emergency supplies, he was down to the barest of essentials for the upcoming mission (having learned the importance of ‘traveling light’ during the Hope One incident).
"We are traveling in an area with high levels of pirate activity. We've suddenly been pulled out of warp...." Zoss tossed his body armor over his shoulders. Another little item he'd picked up on Hope One. The ceramite plates that formed the chest, back, and shoulder pieces were heavy by any race's standard, but they served to absorb weapon radiation, which allowed Zoss to heal faster. "What do you think?"
“It’s definitely you,” Andy said.
Bran, as he checked over his weapons, let his thoughts drift back to his first mission with ‘the 40th’ … the plight of the Jhovians reminded him of his own people’s struggle. “I’m surprised I’ve never seen them along the Path” – he thought – “Oh well, it’s a big galaxy …”
Pleg had the audacity to push Saliss. "See what you've gotten us into. Next time you leave the travel plans to SOMEONE IN CHARGE!" He hooked a thumb and indicated Zoss over his shoulder. The Ferengi was about to get his pointy teeth knocked down his throat when the door swished open and three members of the ship's crew, including the captain, entered at a run.
The tension in the room was palpable. Captain O'dell signaled for his companions to hold back as he walked further into the room. "Zoss!" He shouted.
Zoss turned to look at the short Human with the funny accent. "Yes.....Captain?" He deduced that this was the captain of the ship from the way the crew arrayed themselves in a protective fashion around him.
"Please, please listen. I've got a plan, but time is critical. "You and your men are my only hope."
One of the men that had come in with O'dell looked as though he was about to piss himself from fright. "Granger? Are you sure about this?"
"Quiet Deely!" O'dell ordered over his shoulder. "Mr. Zoss..." He started again, imploringly. "I need your undivided attention, because in..." Double checking his chronometer, he continued. "...three minutes we are going to have a serious situation on our hands.
"You have it." Zoss replied simply.
The captain didn't know exactly how to explain his seemingly insane plan to the creature (the man) before him. "We are about to be boarded by an unknown number of assailants. They call themselves the Androssi. Have you ever heard of them?"
"Yes. Scavengers, minimal threat, low tactical ability. I trust you have the situation in hand?" The Jem'Hadar raised an eyebrow.
"Well, I and my crew are most definitely NOT ready to mount an effective defense." Feeling almost ashamed of the need for assistance he went on. "Most of them are primarily technicians, scientists, and people trained in animal husbandry."
Zoss nodded, beginning to see where this was going.
"Right...O.K....Here's the plan in a nutshell. This livestock hold...", indicating the room they were all in, "and the other two are rigged to anesthetize all of the animal's in case they get out of control..."
"Fabulous!" Pleg interjected. "So, you put us in a room where you could gas us!" He bounced his head in agitation whilst simultaneously pacing around with arms raised. "Why am I not surprised!"
Saliss grabbed the little troll fiercely by the ears. "I HAVE HAD ENOUGH OF YOU." The words were measured, forceful, and full of menace.
Bran ignored the confrontation, continuing to check (and re-check) his weapons, ammo and supplies; avoiding direct eye contact with either of the two combatants … He enjoyed seeing the Reptilian attempt to shake some sense into the whiny Ferengi, but was concerned about how the two were going to get along in the cramped livestock hold – “and whether or not I’m going to have to get involved!” he thought, snapping a round of liquid metal into the magazine of one of his smart guns …
Zoss ignored the bickering mercs. The Captain had asked for his attention, and Zoss was giving it. He continued staring at the Human.
O'dell had to gain control. He screamed, "Please! We have only 2 minutes left!" He spoke again to Zoss directly. "I am going to reverse this process, leaving the hold the only place that DOES NOT get gassed. When the Androssi arrive, Deely is going to flood the ship with Anesthezine gas. Everyone will be knocked out, friend and foe alike. Only you will be unaffected."
“Sounds good to me – LET’S GO!” Bran blurted out. He’d been trying to keep his ‘big mouth shut’ ever since he signed up with the BlackSkulls, but the last little display from Pleg and Saliss was just enough an excuse for his naturally charming personality to take over.
O'dell sent Deely and his assistant to the atmospheric controls near the door. Whatever the final outcome of this explanation, they had to start now or it would be too late. "Mr. Zoss, if any of them beam into one of these holds we are sunk unless your people can stop them."
Zoss nodded. "Have any of your crew been informed?" An assortment of deadly counter-boarding tricks began forming in his mind.
"I can't risk intra-ship communications." O'dell responded. "If I attempt to inform my crew, I could be signing our death warrants. A few of them will know, a very few." He said dismayed. It was not a perfect plan. But he counseled himself that it was the best he could do with the time he had.
A large number of those tactics quickly disappeared from Zoss's mind. The crew needed to be defended, and killing them would produce undesirable results.
The request Captain O'dell was making was more than he had any right to. He wished he could stop there, but of course he couldn't. "There is, um, one more detail." He said visibly gulping. "The Androssi won't be surprised for long. Eventually they will send more men, or worse. I want to send some of YOUR men...over there."
So that was the plan, was it? "Your tactics....are questionable....." Zoss began. "But we've little choice. I'll do it."
Verbalizing his thought of just a few seconds before, O'dell said, "I know it isn't a perfect plan. But if this works, we might just make it home alive."
Blarox, with his perpetual grin, took a pause from the rapid reassembly of his rifle to make an addition. "Worst case scenario, of course, everyone dies, depending on the boarders' skill. But that's a relatively slim chance. Personally, I see the consequence of failure most likely to be imprisonment with a slight hint of either interrogation or torture. But we can get out from under that."
Both Ali and Andy turned, and looked with disbelief at their newest comrade in arms. The guy was way too cheerful about the prospect of capture. ‘Imprisonment with a slight hint of either interrogation or torture,’ sounded like he was describing a fine wine, not electric shock and brass knuckles. Ali looked to Andy, then back to Bran, “I’m not as optimistic as you, friend. So, if you’ve any ideas about surrender, forget it--I’ll kill you myself before that happens.”
Zoss turned to the squad. "I will not ask you to participate in this fight against your will, but I will tell you this: if you don't agree in ten seconds, I'm throwing you outside to be knocked unconscious by the gas. If you agree to stay, you'll fight them off and then join me in the counter-boarding. I will not have dead weight or bystanders in the crossfire."
“I’m in,” Ali said, as he loaded and checked his weapon.
Andy looked down at his phaser sidearm. He picked it up with mixed feelings. Some part of him reveled in battle, but the medic he’d become was conflicted. Still, there was no denying how dangerous or unfair the situation was. In order to protect his friends, and the other passengers, he had to fight. “I’m in too.”
Saliss grabbed up an assault rifle that up until now had maintained a sort of honorary position among his gear. The Saurian flexed his long nailed fingers around the hand-grip and tentatively placed it to his shoulder to feel its weight and balance. His outward appearance was of a being getting used to something new or unfamiliar. Muttering to himself, yet loud enough for his teammates to hear, he spoke openly about his feelings with the rifle. "I've never much cared for these. I'm a medic...not an assassin." His mannerism deepened to that of a man who actually disdained the use of the firearm he now held. It passed quickly, however. Soon, he seemed the consummate professional. Unfortunately, he thought to himself, I should have never shown this side of myself to the members of this unit; they must be able to trust me in a combat situation.
Pleg hadn't taken his eyes off the Saliss since the moment he'd become irritated with him. He'd accosted the lizard-man and was expecting a reprisal. The muffled words of Saliss made him unsure of him. While he readied his own weapon, Pleg added his two-cents. "Well...I AM AN ASSASSIN when necessary, so don't get in my way." Pleg finished loading a vicious looking magazine of solid projectiles into the chamber on the underside of his rifle and patted it affectionately. "I bet the rebels on Hope One would've LOVED to get their hands on this baby." Pleg appeared to be about ready to drool over his favorite weapon.
As he clicked the last power cell for his rifle into place, Blarox got up. "What's the worst that could happen?" he said, while silently contemplating if he put the phase emitter in the right way due to the lack of time. He turned to the rest of his gear, quickly arranging his explosive materials for easy access to high explosive packs, EMP bombs and a variety of grenades, as well as a toolkit.
Bran Brenar’s face wrinkled in annoyance at the Barolian’s comment. As the other - and senior - explosives expert in the crew, he’d been keeping his opinions, and practical expertise, to himself; deferring to the (“Older? Definitely … ‘bluer?’!”) man. What annoyed him most about Blarox’s comment wasn’t the audacity of it, or the ‘ignorance’ of it, it was the fact that most of the time, the “other demolitions guy” was actually RIGHT; which kept Bran second guessing himself … even when he was carrying enough ordnance to demolish a small town.
Just watching the interactions of the Blackskulls unit in pre-battle preparations, O'dell was stricken by the oddity of it. On one hand, they might be able to take the enemy and protect his ship. On the other, he wondered how they kept from killing each other. "How much time until you're done Deely?" he asked the man assigned to rig the ship with the Anesthezine gas."
The man's fingers literally flew across the controls as sweat dripped off his forehead. "One minute, Granger. About the same time as that boarding party arrives."
Ali adjusted his respirator, and hoped that it still functioned properly. [Anesthezine gas? What kind of looney toon plan was that! Were they fighting pirates, or trying to catch the roadrunner? If the damn mask didn’t work, he hoped he lived long enough to kick O’dell’s ass. How did they get caught with their pants down about their ankles anyway? Stupid f***ers], he thought.
Andy bowed his head, and prayed quietly to himself, [Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done, here as it is in heaven. Give us this day, our daily bread, forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us. Lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil. For Thine is the kingdom, the power and the glory, forever and ever. Amen.] When he finished, he crossed himself and looked to Zoss. He was ready.
O'dell was stressed beyond belief. His ship was due to be the battleground between two sets of extremely dangerous combatants and the outcome would decide the future (or lack thereof) of his crew. Never let them see you sweat he thought as another drop fell from his nose. 'Ahhhh, screw it!'.
“The 40th Special Ops Division …” Bran muttered “Travel to exotic locations, meet exciting and interesting people – and kill them.” He joked, while cocking back the action on his rocket launcher, and then falling silent again.
Instantly lightened by the mercenary's self assurance and bravado, O'dell smiled in spite of himself. "Good luck with that."
*********************
Location: Ark Mercy
Time: IMMEDIATELY AFTER Jarri's beam over
The bridge of the Mariposan vessel abruptly went from a scene of tense anticipation to total chaos as Androssi beamed in at the front of the bridge, while at the same time more of them poured out of the lifts on either side of the rear of the compartment. The apparent squad leader bellowed an order to the occupants of the bride. "Stand away from your consoles! Any attempt to interfere with the any member of my team will result in an extremely painful death!" The Androssi fanned out around the bridge aiming their panshars at anyone who so much as twitched.
Following the captain's orders the bridge crew did precisely as told. Each raised his hands and backed away toward the center of the room. In this position, it would be clear that they were giving up the bridge without a fight. Duncan, the comm officer, wondered what the hell the captain had up his sleeve. 'It would have been nice.' He thought. 'If Granger would have told us....something.' A low hiss caught his attention. Within seconds, he and everyone on the bridge, began to experience the affects of the Anesthezine being pumped in through the ventilation system.
"Officer Tam!" One of the Androssi called to his leader. "It's a trap!"
Duncan smirked. Now he understood what Granger was rushing to do. However, that didn't make him any happier about it. He began to lose his ability to hold his head up; or any of his other body parts for that matter. He made eye contact with Feron and then with Conell. As his vision blurred, he thought he saw the look of fear in their eyes. Then, as he slumped to the floor he had a last fleeting thought that perhaps it was his own fear that he saw reflected back.
________________________
All around the ship arriving Androssi were being dosed with Anesthezine even as they materialized. Many crewmen of the Ark Mercy had no idea that it was their own captain's decision to release the gas. Several Androssi fired panshars at some of the ships crew because they thought they were being rushed. They were flabbergasted to see the ones not writhing on the floor run right past them in an attempt to get to a 'clean room.' Quickly the bewildered attackers began to suffer symptoms and succumb as well. Weapons clattered to the floor, and weakened Androssi, Mariposan, & Bringloidi started throwing ineffectual punches at each other before finally laying motionless.
_______________________
"I think it's working." Deely told O'dell as they stood at the atmospheric controls in the animal hold.
Moments before Deely had released the gas, while his assistant had been sent into the corridors to gather whomever he could in 60 seconds. Amazingly, twelve crewmen, mostly Bringloidi 'animal care specialists' had been brought back and spared the imposed nap everyone else was now taking.
O'dell cast a sidelong glance at Zoss. "It's time to get them into position. Take these." O'dell said, handing over a selection of gas masks and air purification re-breathers. "It's hard to say what your men will find out there. I can already tell you that dozens of Androssi have boarded us. Most, however, are not in a condition to cause them any trouble. Some of my crew may have made it to the other livestock holds. Maybe some of the Androssi have too. So, If I were you I'd check them first just to make sure."
Zoss quickly formulated a battle plan with the Captain of the Ark Mercy. Ali and Andy would take the first cargo bay to defend, Pleg and Saliss the second, and Zoss, Blarox, and Bran would defend the main cargo bay, the one packed with the most civilians.
Following his words with Zoss, O'dell gathered his people about him. "I know this is one hell of a deal we've got going here. I wish it could've been done differently. Get behind something, quick. It won't be long before we have company," he added, with a wink. "Whatever happens, it ought to make a great story to tell the wee ones back home." Then, O’dell guided the full group of Ark Mercy crewmen to the rear of the compartment to allow the mercenaries room to do...what they did best....he hoped.
"Alright, you have your assignments. Get to your cargo bays and hold off the attackers. No time for questions. Move out." Zoss charged his weapon and made his way to a position of cover. The civilians had all found cover behind a makeshift barrier of livestock and cargo crates in a very short time.
Pleg accepted a gas mask as he headed for the door. He slid it over his face and attempted to tighten the strap around his head. "Damn, I don't think this was designed to be used by a Ferengi." He tossed it back to the table. "Get me one of those bar things." He told Saliss, who was in the process of getting a re-breather for himself.
"Here, catch." Saliss said sending the unit circling through the air to his teammate. "Make sure you keep your mouth tight around it at all times."
"Right." Pleg answered as he caught it deftly. A quick recheck of his weapon satisfied him that he was prepared. "Ready?"
"Let's do it." Saliss responded.
Andy and Ali were a strange pairing. One born and bred to kill, reborn to respect life. The other named for a prophet he’d turned his back to long ago. Andy was already saddened by the lost of life to come, while Ali was eager. Andy imagined every step, and every bandage, it would take to heal someone. While Ali delighted in the sounds of gunfire and screaming. He was fascinated by the color and smell of other people’s blood. “Let’s go,” he said, as he jerked his head in the direction of the adjoining door.
Both teams exited in concert to allow the least amount of gas from the outside to enter the cargo space. What little had gotten in would dissipate quickly in the large space resulting in little to no effect on those inside.
Bran Brenar took a deep breath, re-holstered his RPG ‘shotgun’ in the strap around his back - realizing that the weapon was more than excessive for the task at hand (“Never let it be said that I wouldn’t hesitate to bring a gun to a knife fight!” he joked to himself), and then filled both hands with smart-pistols; scanning the cargo bay area with the digital firearms’ targeting sensors …
Blarox quickly moved for the doors the other teams had exited through, and rigged them with remote explosives that he could trigger himself if needed. Any invaders coming in through there would be in for a nasty surprise.
Almost the moment the other teams left the door for their objectives, the first wave of attackers materialized in the cargo bay. Zoss picked one off with a well-placed shot to the chest. The phaser carbine punched through the primitive armor with ease and ended the scavenger's life. Others quickly followed, and Zoss soon found himself desperately ducking and dodging between cargo crates, fighting a 360 degree battle with foes materializing on all sides.
He did the best he could to keep his squad mates at his back, but the battle was just moving too quickly. The only thing the Blackskulls had to their advantage was the fact that their opponents were arriving disoriented from transport. Zoss tried to ignore the fact that his upper forearm muscle was beginning to twitch. A small, but ominous sign of the Ketracel withdrawal symptoms to come.
Just as he was covering a blank area of wall to his right, a blur of motion to Bran’s left made him swing around (his body being steered by his outstretched gun-hand), and fired, once, directly at one of the incoming enemy troops. The man dropped, crumpling, to the floor (a neat circle of bloody pinholes decorating his chest), and Bran pulled back his weapon, holding the autopistol upright while it reset itself for the next ‘target.’
Blarox jumped up from his fiddling, and launched a few bolts from his rifle at the invaders, quickly jumping back down to finish the charges, then turning back and opening fire at the invaders, while sidling across the wall and returning to his squadmates defending the civilians.
*********************
Location: Cargo bay adjoining ‘guest’ accommodations to Cargo bay 3
Tags: Glyn, Jarri/workers
No sooner had the door closed behind them, when the sounds of a fire fight came from the next room. “It appears we left too soon,” Andy said.
Ali used his cyborgnetic eye to scan the room, but the cattle posed no threat to them. “I say we go back.”
Just then, something heavy hit door, and left a dent six inches away from Andy’s head. “Think it will still open?” he asked.
“Sure,” Ali replied.
“And, close again?”
“No guarantees,” Ali answered. “Does it matter?”
“Guess not,” Andy said, as he and shook their fist hree times to reveal ‘rock’ and ‘paper.’ “I win again.”
“How do you do that?” Ali wanted to know.
“You always pick rock,” Andy pointed out. “I’ll take high.”
“Why didn’t you just say so?” Ali asked. “Why even play that silly game. You can be high anytime you want.”
In position next to the door, the sounds of weapons firing and things breaking had intensified. Andy contacted Zoss via his headset. “Mind if we drop in?”
=/\= NEGATIVE!! NEGATIVE!!... =/\= Came the garbled reply.
“Get down, we’ll lay down suppression fire then fall back,” Andy said.
=/\= ALI!! ANDY!! DO NOT STEP THROUGH THE DOOR!! =/\=
=/\= Okay? =/\= Two more dents appeared next to Ali’s head.
=/\= Blarox has rigged the door to blow!!! Do NOT open the door!! Proceed to cargo bay three and defend it!! =/\=
=/\= We’re on it. =/\= Andy turned to Ali, “Come on.“ Another loud bang, and a 50mm hole appeared in the door as a projectile whizzed past--right where Andy’s head had been a moment before.
Andy sighed, “I’m a peaceful, reasonable being; really I am. But, if I find out that was Pleg’s doing, I’m afraid I’m going to have to kill the guy.”
“Don’t be afraid,” Ali said, “I’ll help ya get the runt.”
“What are you proposing?” Andy asked as they walked past the animal pens to the other door.”
Ali smirked, “I’m not proposing anything; you’re not my type. But, if I was gonna shoot Pleg, I would lead him like a little girl.”
---Cargo Bay Three---
Jarri watched the battle unfold with growing apprehension. The cleverly-concealed gas had flooded every deck of the ship except for the cargo bays. Luckily, he was standing in one of them.
Cycling through his visual feeds once again, he found that only five teams of the ten that beamed over were still conscious. Luckily, one of the teams looked like they were busy securing a cloning lab, so at least their objective had been met.
Jarri paced the dank confines of the cargo bay, prodding a dead sheep with his foot. The fool workers had mistaken the sheep for sentient beings and shot them all. Aside from the sheep, there had been no resistance in this cargo bay. =/\= Jarri to Overseer Glyn. =/\= He said, tapping his headset.
=/\= Report, Sub-Overseer. =/\= Glyn's voice came loud and clear through the headset.
=/\= We've run into some resistance. The corridors have been gassed and we've lost five of our teams. Two teams are stuck in cargo bay one and two fighting some resistance down there. Team three and four have managed to secure some cloning data and equipment. They're preparing to beam back now. =/\=
=/\= What?! Gassed?! =/\= Glyn's voice came back. He was startled and it showed audibly. A few seconds passed and his message resumed, now in a carefully controlled manner indicative of his professionalism. =/\= Jarri, this transport captain is shrewd. We must take all precautions. I DO NOT want the the cloning equipment beamed to the Flurry. It could be booby trapped. I will contact teams three and four and have them shunt the equipment into a dimensional shift. We can analyze it after we have dealt with the transport and it's crew. I want YOU to make sure there is no one left on that ship to offer us any further trouble AND determine if there is anything else aboard of value. Is that clear? =/\= The tone of the last question left no question that it had better be clear.
Before Jarri could reply, the cargo bay doors swished open. A Human and an Andorian stood at the entrance. Both were heavily armed. The workers standing around the entrance of the door were caught completely off-guard.
"OPEN FIRE!!" Jarri shouted. The workers all leveled their weapons at the pair, and the whine of charging Panshars filled the room.
Ali and Andy got off a burst of weapons fire, before falling back behind the door. Ali pulled the pin on a grenade and threw it into the room. The workers leading the assault fell back dead or badly wounded. Andy lay down more phaser fire, while Ali pulled the pin on another grenade.
*********************
Location: Ark Mercy Corridors
Pleg led the way down the hallway, weapon at the ready. He was in the mood to do some damage. His trigger finger itched and it was all he could do to not fire off a round just to relieve the need. However, he restrained himself because if any of the Androssi were laying in wait in the corridor, he didn't want to give away his position for no reason.
Immediately behind him, Saliss kept one eye forward watching his surroundings, while the other eye independently reviewed data on his medical scanner. The Saurian had configured its readout to search for lifeforms. None moved in the hall ahead. The data changed to display more detailed information. There were 7 beings (5 Androssi and 2 others) with medical readings indicative of an unconscious stage.
Saliss would have told Pleg of the situation if he could. The re-breathers that kept them from inhaling the noxious gas also kept them from speaking. Saliss changed to a third display. This one gave an even wider area scan of the decks around him. Apparently, this ship was not all that different in general layout from the Seiklon Axel. This being the lowest deck it housed all three of the livestock holds and the cloning facilities. Three decks above he recognized what appeared to be the bridge with more science and engineering spaces behind and below that. Decks 2 and 3 also contained a fair amount of crew quarters. This appeared to be where the largest concentration of the Ark Mercy's crew was located.
Studying his scanner intently he perceived the boarding plan of the Androssi. Most of their life signs were coming from Decks 1,2, and 4 either attempting to gain access to ship systems or the cloning equipment, which was the focus of their mission. Apparently, they had predetermined that the crew quarters on Deck 3 were of secondary importance, so long as these people couldn't interfere.
Satisfied that he had the layout of the land Saliss concentrated more of his attentions on scouting the area around him. The livestock hold which was their target was just ahead about 30 meters and around the corner to the right. His sensitive eyes picked up movement at the corner ahead. Saliss tapped Pleg on the shoulder and pointed ahead. Pleg flattened himself against the wall behind a bracing beam and gestured with his head to indicate Saliss should do the same.
Mere tenths of a second after they reduced their target profiles, a trio of helmeted Androssi fanned out across the end of the hall--two on either side also half concealed by ceiling supports. The third crouched in the center of the floor. All three opened fire simultaneously with their panshars. Saliss assumed the helmets contained some type of protection from the gas. Fortunately, most of the boarding party were not as well equipped.
Pleg took aim at the man at center. A lance of phaser fire catapulted him backwards against the wall. He crumpled to the floor. Saliss opened fire on the man on the left. His first shot missed, but a second burst wounded him in the shoulder. The Androssi officer dropped his panshar and it skittered across the deck between himself and the Blackskulls mercenaries. A split second later he finished the job. The third man was in a more defensible position. Neither Pleg nor Saliss could get a bead on him from their current positions. Throwing caution to the wind Pleg did a diving roll to his left as shots flew above his head. He fired a phaser burst that nicked the helmet of the Androssi.
The Androssi officer ducked back around the corner retreating back the way he had come.
Pleg smiled broadly without losing his grip on the re-breather in his mouth as he fired a smart bullet toward the open space at the end of the corridor. The bullet, keyed to the Androssi's heart rhythm, turned the corner using micro thrusters. A thwump sound could be heard almost instantly. The Ferengi badly wanted to brag to his companion about the special feature of his favorite weapon. Instead, he raised a hand and using one finger chalked two points in the air and then tapped his chest a couple times for emphasis.
Saliss gave a nod of appreciation and proceeded forward. He knelt to pick-up the panshar hand weapon and tucked it in his belt. 'This could be interesting to study.' He thought to himself. Pleg scowled at the unnecessarily exposed position Saliss had left himself in. With one booted foot he kicked the Saurian lightly in the calf of his leg. Then, together they moved ahead stepping over the bodies of the two Androssi in the hallway. Around the corner the third was sprawled spread eagle upon the floor with a 2 inch hole in the center of his back.
Five meters further ahead the door to the livestock hold awaited. It seemed likely to both mercenaries that they would find resistance within.
The door to the cargo hold blew open violently. Each half of the sliding door was flung inward and towards the wall to it's own side with incredible force. Pleg hit the deck on his stomach and fired at the Androssi who had gathered within and appeared prepared to take to the corridors with full gas wear in place. Saliss took the aggressive approach of launching himself bodily into the room and rolled behind a set of containers to the left of the assembled Androssi.
Pleg instantly assessed the skills of his adversaries. While these Androssi were armed and ready, they were obviously not combat specialists. They had been taken completely off-guard by the explosion, which took the lives of two of their number initially. Then, they found themselves caught in a crossfire from two positions. Like ducks in a shooting gallery, four more hit the deck with phaser burn blossoms etched into their chest armor.
"Fall back!" An Androssi officer ordered.
His men scattered to a positions behind feeding troughs, containers, and stall doors; returning fire as they backed away. Shots flew over Pleg's head as he continued to release skilled shot after skilled shot. Only the quick location of cover saved two Androssi while three more took head and chest wounds that left them dead.
From his off-side positon, Saliss kept the enemy from feeling totally secure with their location, even though he scored very few hits himself. He watched Peg move from his prone position to another location on the right side of the room. A thumbs up from the Ferengi confirmed that his cover fire had been sufficient for him to arrive safely.
It appeared to Saliss that there were only 4 more Androssi in the room. Three crewmen of the Ark Mercy could be seen lying on the deck to the rear of the compartment. Whether, they were alive or dead couldn't be discerned from this perspective. Saliss' gut instinct was to aid the fallen crewmen. However, he had to stay on the offensive until after all of the enemy were neutralized.
Two of the black armored Androssi took the initiative to rush Pleg. One was caught full force in the chest by a phaser blast. The other made it a few feet further. A blast from Saliss hit him sideways and lifted him off of his feet, propelling him against the opposing wall.
The remaining Androssi seemed as though they would have liked to abort their mission. They glanced at each other as often as they did their opponents. No tactical solution presented itself to them. They retreated to the most defensible position they could find.
Pleg had ample time to get a life signs lock on both of the Androssi soldiers. He stood and squeezed off two guided projectiles. These danced around obstacles before finally impacting their targets. The Ferengi whooped behind his mask. "HA HA! I love this gun!" The mask clinked against the muzzle of the rifle as Pleg attempted to kiss the weapon.
Now, Saliss went to attend the injured crewmen. A quick bio-scan revealed that two of them were still alive, suffering from disrupted neural pathways in their central nervous system. The third was dead. He spat his rebreather out to speak. "These two will live."
"Like I care." The Ferengi shot back, unsympathetically.
=/\= Zoss. =/\= Saliss called opening a comm link. =/\= Cargo Hold Two is secure. =/\=
*********************
Location: Main Cargo Bay
Zoss dropped the last opponent with a quick shot from his sidearm. His carbine had long ago overheated, and was in safety mode, cooling it's plasma cells. He and his teammates were surrounded by the corpses of fallen Androssi, with only the Blackskulls still standing.
Zoss's armor was covered in carbon scoring. Panshars were very effective against exposed flesh, but against reflective ceramite armor, it was useless. However, Zoss's breathing came out quick and heavy. Ketracel withdrawal was beginning to set in.
"CLEAR! TEAM!! STATUS!!" He roared, indicating to his teammates that they should report in.
Just then, Saliss's voice came on over the comm. =/\= Zoss. =/\= Saliss called opening a comm link. =/\= Cargo Hold Two is secure. =/\=
"Understood, Saliss." Zoss replied. "Standby for stage two." And by that, he meant the beam-over and counterboarding action.
Nodding, Zoss commed Ali and Andy. "Ali, Andy, what is your situation? Cargo bays one through two are secure."
--------------------
Ali turned to Andy, “Well, this is a find mess you’ve gotten us into.”
Andy rolled his eyes, they’d seen something similar on TV recently. “I’m sorry Ollie,” he said sarcastically.” Then changing the subject, “How many more?’
“Two,” Ali replied, “they’ve taken up a position behind the main console.”
“How many did I get?” Andy asked, not sure why he cared.
“None,” Ali answered.
“You’re kidding,” Andy said.
“Nope.”
Suddenly Zoss’ voice crackled over the headset, “Ali, Andy, what is your situation? Cargo bays one through two are secure."
Ali pulled a pin from a third grenade and threw it in, behind the console. There was a loud explosion, smoke and plastic computer keys in the air. “Cargo bay 3 secure, Sir.”
---------------------
Looking around, Zoss found O'Dell behind the makeshift barricade they'd erected earlier. Zoss called out to him. "Captain O'Dell! We need to implement stage two. Are you ready with the transporter?"
O'dell, Duncan, and the man whom as yet had no name were working frantically to accomplish their goal with the the transporter unit used for delivering the livestock. The unit had to be both capable of transporting large masses and living organisms due to the nature of the Ark Mercy's cargo. Duncan was arm deep into a console. He looked over to O'dell and nodded. "Just finished." O'dell answered. "We can go when you're ready." With a worried look he added. "Give me a second to begin the sequence"
The tactical situation played out in Zoss's mind. The team would be beaming over into hostile territory, against an alerted enemy while outnumbered. There had to be some way of beaming in without them noticing.....
Then the idea hit him.
"Wait-STOP." Zoss said to O'Dell.
O'dell slapped a button to abort the transport sequence. "What is it?"
"Can you lock on to all these dead Androssi and beam them over as well?"
The proverbial light bulb went on above O'dell's head. A knowing mischievous grin etched it's way onto his face. "Yes...yes I can!" His fingers flew across the controls. "I'll input the bio-signature to select all of the Androssi corpses. Then, I'll beam them into various parts of their ship. - IT"LL BE CHAOS! - Then, all I need to know is where you want to be inserted. Just point here." He told Zoss, indicating a schematic of the Flurry.
"Just do it, Captain. There's no time." Zoss tapped his headset again, paging all the team members.
=/\= All teams, all teams, do you read me? =/\=
=/\=Affirmative=/\= Ali answered.
=/\= Loud and Clear.=/\=
=/\= We're going to beam over with the dead Androssi corpses. Play dead and make it look convincing. You have two minutes. =/\=
=/\=On the way=/\= Andy replied.
=/\= I'm ready now. =/\= Pleg's voice came back. =/\= Let's get this show on the road. =/\=
Pulling out a knife, Zoss shifted the blade in his grip once or twice. Getting a good feel for the blade. "Blarox, was it you that once asked me how I got my callsign?"
<< Blarox: yeah >>
"Allow me to show you...." Zoss readied the knife, and then plunged it into his neck, just above his collar bone. The blade sunk into his flesh with a sickening squelch, and a small trail of blood oozed down the front of his armor.
It was a macabre image, the Jem'Hadar standing there, with a knife plunged down his neck all the way to the hilt. Zoss made sure that the deadly edges of the blade were far from any of his vital organs before proceeding to lay down next to an Androssi corpse. "I'll tell you the story later, but right now, we're going to beam to their bridge." The Squad leader's voice came out strangled and a bit high-pitched. "I'd advise you two find some real estate."
<< Bran: gotcha >>
Zoss checked his own team once more before giving the order. "Energize."
*********************
Location: Ark Mercy Cloning Lab
Time: Beginning of the Androssi attack
Located in the middle of deck 4 aboard the animal transport Ark Mercy there is a room unlike any other on the ship. In this chamber Dr. Martin Wright diligently produces cloned livestock for colony seeding. Horses, cows, pigs, chickens, and several other less familiar exotic animals from many worlds are stored in embryonic form and accelerated to maturity both on the outbound trip and during the return to Bringloid V in the Ficus Sector. Once these creatures are brought to the critical separation stage they can be raised as regular farm animals. Unfortunately, most of these creatures are not at this point yet.....
Minutes ago following a tremendous jolt several of these containers shattered. Half formed animals flopped out onto the floor in some cases dying, in others (sometimes disturbingly) living. Wright had called up to the bridge for help. Expecting the familiar voice of the captain, Wright was answered by Duncan, the communications officer. He had said that the captain was off the bridge and they were in the middle of an emergency situation. He was on his own.
Now, approximately five minutes later, the sounds of weapons fire merged with those of the dozen mewling animals attempting to gain there feet for the first time. "What else could possibly go wrong!" Wright shouted as he moved form one animal to the next trying to keep them alive. "Computer, get me the bridge, again."
"All communications systems are off-line." A strong baritone voice responded from a wall speaker.
"Sh*t!" Wright cursed.
He heard sounds at the door. 'Apparently, I'm getting some help after all.' He thought as the door opened. His opinion changed at the sight of two black clad men with upraised hand weapons and helmets that revealed sepia skin and bright green eyes. He backed away staggering. "What do you want?" He asked confused.
"There is an independent oxygen supply to this room." One of the trespassers said.
"Very good." Responded the second, removing his helmet with his free hand and laying it on a worktable. "YOU!" He called to Wright. "You are the Master of this station?"
"Yes...and I demand...." Martin Wright started back defiantly.
"You are in no position for that." The un-helmeted man cut him short. He then turned to the other man, who continued to ignore the animals about him while keeping his panshar aimed at Wright. "Scan the equipment to determine what we need to take to please our sponsor." Once again he returned his attention to Wright. "You will assist us." He said as his long, flowing, gold hair caught up with his head movement.
"Take? Take where?" Martin Wright stammered as he felt his world being whisked away. "You can't." Without warning, an electrical burst from a panshar shorted out his nervous system and left him slumping to the floor in excruciating pain.
The un-helmeted man turned up the amplitude on his panshar and proceeded to slaughter the animals still alive in the room. "Make it quick." He said to the other techno-thief. "We don't want any complications."
-------aboard Androssi ship-------
Glyn was upset by the way he'd responded to Sub-Overseer Jarri's report moments ago. But, more than that, he was bothered by the degree to which he had underestimated the abilities of the Ark Mercy's captain and crew. They had managed to mount a defense during the five minutes he'd given them to make piece with their dieties. They had managed to overcome several of the officers and workers he'd sent to board the ship and also to arm themselves respectably. While his caste insured that his sponsor would keep him in command after this was over, the oversight he'd made would cost him dearly in the eyes of the crew around him.
Glyn turned to the communications master at his left. "Open communications to groups three & four. I need to give them instructions, immediately."
"Yes, Overseer." The comms master replied. "Channel open."
=/\= This is your Overseer. =/\= He began. =/\= Do not beam materials to the Flurry. The safety of the merchandise is in question. You are to target all valuable goods and shunt them into a dimensional shift for review. Any scientific personnel that you find ARE to be taken into custody and brought with you at the conclusion of your assignment. You have 3 minutes to complete the assigned task. =/\=
"Close channel." He finished.
--------in the lab--------
One of the Androssi Officers within the cloning lab placed the helmet he'd been carrying under his arm onto the the main workstation. He did not respond to his overseers message. No response had been requested. It was simply understood that he knew what, where, and how long his assignment was; and he had best complete it in the alloted frame of time. "You heard the overseer. We must complete our scans and set up the Triovar Device, immediately."
Officer #2 leveled his scanner at another set of computer banks and began a new set of readings. "Understood." A wave left and right gave him all the information he needed. "This one is also essential."
Martin Wright stirred on the floor. His motor control was completely shorted out. His legs flopped about uselessly. "Uurggh..al la la..." He gurgled. In his mind he was attempting to negotiate with his captors.
=/\= Team 4 leader, this is Svat. I have a prisoner ready for transport. The cloning lab is secured. Fall back to this location to take him into custody and assist in finalization of the Triovar Field sequence. =/\=
=/\= Affirmative. Team 3 leader. =/\=
At 2 minutes 39 seconds teams 3 and 4 completed their mission. Martin Wright was beamed to the transporter room of the ASAV Flurry amidst a contingent of 8 Androssi warriors. Seconds later, the Triovar Device zapped the field into life. All tagged computers, equipment, data pads, chemicals, etc; blinked out of existence as tendrils of lavender energy lashed throughout the room.
*********************
Location: Ark Mercy Transporter Room
Jarri stumbled through the corridors, holding his rebreather to his face. He'd only barely managed to escape the cargo bay alive. Who would've known that a FERENGI and a damned LIZARD could pack so much firepower? These were professional mercenaries, dangerous ones.
Jarri went over the tactical data in his head as he reached the door to the transporter room. There was a squad of armed mercenaries on this ship. The Ark Mercy was no match for the Flurry in a space battle, and she couldn't outrun the Flurry, so the only option left to the mercs if they sought victory was to board the Flurry.
Jarri's comm had been damaged in the battle, so he couldn't call to warn the Captain. He needed to beam back aboard the Flurry to warn them!
As Jarri set the time delay on the transporter console, he paused a moment to curse the powers that be for their predicament. Who knew that a ship full of shepherds and scientists harbored a group of the most dangerous freelance operators in the quadrant???
His thoughts were interrupted by the familiar grip of the transporter beam. The Sub-Overseer allowed himself a small sigh of relief. The mission had failed, but at least he was still alive.
*********************
Location: ASAV Flurry
Timeline: Blackskull beamover
Klaxons blared through speakers at the back of the Flurry's bridge. Glyn stood at the rail overlooking the work pit. His eyes practically boring holes in the back of the worker's head at the tactical station.
"Overseer!" The worker shouted over the din. "WE are being boarded!" The befuddled Androssi watched his board closely to determine the nature of the incoming threat. He needed to be able to report locations and sizes of forces quickly, or else be replaced. As the scenario played out before him, he was overcome by the unusualness of what he was seeing.
Glyn barked his order. "Raise shie..."
"WAIT! Overseer, they are OUR men!" The worker could barely comprehend the turn of events that was taking place.
Glyn, for his part, could not make up his mind about whether to have the insolent worker executed or not for telling him what to do. The worker had effectively countermanded his order. Glyn's mind was busy trying to fathom the words being spoken to him. "Status, worker! I want to know where our men are and what condition they are in, NOW!"
"It appears sire, that they are mostly either unconscious or dead." He stated sullenly. "They are being beamed....to various locations throughout the ship; engineering, central processing core, weapon's control, life support...."
A shimmer encompassed a vacant area of the bridge, drawing everyone's attention to the spot. Some of the workers scurried back away from their posts. Others issued sounds of disbelief or concern. A pile of perhaps 15 Androssi bodies took form in an instant.
"...bridge." The worker finished in muted awe.
=/\= Jarri! What in Hell's name is going on over there?! =/\= When no answer came immediately, Glyn tapped his ear comm again. =/\= JARRI! =/\=
With a deathly groan, Zoss rose from a pile of Androssi bodies, head hanging loosely to his left side, the blade in his neck seemed a sick extension of his spine.
Without warning, he extracted the blade and sent it into the face of the worker next to Captain Glyn. He'd been meaning to aim for the Captain, but withdrawal was taking it's toll. Zoss quickly injected his last cc of Ketracel into his bloodstream and got to work with his sidearm and a captured Panshar, opening fire left and right.
Glyn staggered back in shock. He pulled his sidearm and fired a burst at the nearest intruder. Simultaneously, he called himself a fool for not making sure the shields had gone up. "SHIELDS, NOW!" He bellowed, hoping he could ward off further boarders.
The four officers on the bridge also had panshars out and were firing blindly amidst a field of diving workers, who were unarmed as befitted their station. Unfortunately, the unthinking idiots were blocking for the enemy, while trying to escape their weapons.
Zoss took cover behind a helm console. Electric bolts sizzled all around him as the workers fired back in a panic. As he'd predicted, the little 'walking dead' show he'd put on had distracted the Androssi and allowed Bran and Blarox to get better cover.
"BLAROX!! SET THE CHARGES!! BRAN!! RPG THE TURBOLIFT!!!" Zoss's ragged basso voice roared over the weapons' fire.
-----------------------------------------------------
Aboard the Ark Mercy, Deely finished the transport sequence that his captain had started. "Well, that's all of them." He said. He watched O'dell's reaction and saw only a blank slate. "Now, what?"
"Now, we get this ship as far away from that Androssi vessel as we can. Grab a mask and run for the bridge. If our mercenaries throw them off guard enough, we have about a 15% chance to live." Putting his own words into action, O'dell shot through the doorway and headed for the bridge. Every man left standing in the room was right behind him.
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