This Might Be Suicide

Posted on Jul 18, 2014 @ 1:22pm by Lieutenant Commander Aerdan Jos & Thomas Varn & Phia
Edited on on Jul 18, 2014 @ 1:51pm

Mission: http://thefrpg.com/sim/missions/id/7
Location: Various

“This Might Be Suicide” (continued from “14-8”)

Location: USS ARMSTRONG
Stardate: 2.140713.0000
Scene: Sickbay

~*~
It is better to burn out than fade away
~Kurt Cobain's suicide note
~*~

“Thanks for asking, I’d love to file a report to the Secretary of Starfleet,” Cade muttered.

Phia ignored him and continued on, “Xana...there are problems out here. You need to fix this. End transmission.”

Cade folded his arms across his chest and waited just long enough for her to finish. “Well, now that that’s done, let me ask you something.”

Phia rolled her eyes. “You have more to offer about this situation?”

“No I want to know whether you were grazed by those slugs they were shooting on the planet of so-called Intergalactic Peace?” he cut directly to the chase.

“No.” She spat back and turned away. Then, with a faint pause, she turned back. Cade Foster was not one to offer compassion without reason. “Why?”

“Because the one I pulled out of O’Malley was covered in necrotic poison. I had to turn him into a partially living popsicle to make sure he didn’t bleed out from the inside. And its potent enough that even if you got nicked, it could turn you into a walking internal hemorrhage.”

Phia frowned, casting her mind back to the chaos. She didn’t remember being hit with anything hard enough to stop her, but the slugs had torn through the disgusting clone cases and the flimsy furniture in the cavern room. She had been hit by more than a little shrapnel. ‘I’m fine.” She tossed back. Her dour expression backed it up, but her tone wasn’t so sure.

“Will you let me scan you?” Cade queried. “I already scanned prettyboy, but it seems his turn tail and run maneuver got him out scot-free.” As she was turning away, he added, “Look if I scan you, I can also show you what to look for and you can scan Wingboy and make sure he’s clean.”

“Fine.” She huffed, walking towards him. “How long would it take for this poison to show symptoms?”

“Depends on the dosage. Just a nick, it might take hours, if not a day or two to show adverse signs, but since necrotic poisons have an organic base, they tend to be self replicating. They feed on cellular tissue, and just eat it up.” Cade smirked, obviously enjoying the lecture.

“Brilliant. And what should I be looking for?”

“Oh, it’s a nasty little base protein structure. Though if you wanted the quicker version you could just strip and I could check your sexy body for signs of cuts scrapes or abrasions…”

WHACK!

The sound of flesh hitting flesh reverberated through sickbay, though it didn’t have quite the satisfying painful ring to it that Phia had hoped. As she looked over at Cade rubbing his lower jaw he was smirking. She was forced to conclude that jerk had expected her to strike him and was prepared for it, mitigating the damage. Part of that made her want to smack him again, the other part was vaguely impressed at his forethought. Vaguely. Not nearly enough.

“Whaa-aat?” Cade queried, managing to look somewhat innocent through his smirk. “Most women appreciate being told they’re sexy when they’re naked.”

If looks could kill, Cade Foster would already be strung up and fed to the carrion crows.

“Ph-ia,” Cade intoned. “You wound me.”

“That was the intent,” she ground out before she pivoted away.

Cade went after her. “As your doctor, of course I know inside and out, naked and clothed. To insinuate that it’s anything other than professional is an affront,” he sniffed.

“Tell it to someone who hasn’t known you for years,” Phia spat.

“Or slept with you,” Cade replied loud enough so she could hear but not so loud that all of Sickbay could hear.

Phia stopped short as did Cade. “I hate you,” she spat while she glared over her shoulder.

“It’s part of the charm,” he grinned. Waving around the tricorder he said, “Now look see we’re all happy.”

“Drop dead,” she snarled as she went stomping off.

Cade chuckled.

~~Beeep. Beeep.~~

Dr. Foster frowned as he looked down at the tricorder. “Oh crap that’s going to be you,” he muttered as looked over the readings. Looking up at the retreating woman he closed his dark eyes and then snapped them back open. She was never going to come back in here voluntarily; sadly, her life depended upon it.

~*~
Location: Privateer Ship “ANNABELLE’s LAMENT”
Scene: Bridge

“I thought they were going to lower their shields and play along…” Rainner griped, settling her hands on her hips and slowly turning to face Saul Conniston. “You told me that once Harcourt and O’Malley were removed they had nothing but an idiot in the center seat.”

“They do.” Connsiton was pale and sweating. He had been running behind and hating every minute of it. Harcourt was a much tougher nut to crack than even he expected and the answers he got out of her settled very poorly with him. In the end he wrenched the codes out of her bleeding lips and left her there, unable to even stand the sight of the woman. Not because he hated her, but because he had asked himself throughout the entire ordeal if this was the right course of action.

When pressed in the right ways the guilty confess. They always confess. Even if the words never escape their lips you could see it in their eyes. He had never once questioned his methods or goals because the eventual outcome was for the betterment of the Federation. Until today. No matter what he did, Harcourt stared back at him with that cold fury of righteousness. Even when her life was bleeding out from her eyes she never backed away from her convictions. It made Conniston feel cold. Ice cold.

Still, he had a job to do. What was done was done, and Harcourt was left for dead. He had to focus on the task at hand. “No matter, even if someone on the bridge is smart enough to keep their shields up, I have Harcourt’s command codes. They will fall when I tell them to fall.”

Rainner gazed up at the viewscreen and back at Conniston. “They had better.” She wanted this mission to go smoothly. While this mission was incredibly lucrative and would cement her crew as the favored mercenaries of this subsection of the Federation, it was on paper extremely dangerous. Despite the ARMSTRONG not being the biggest or baddest ship in the fleet, she easily outmaneuvered and outgunned the ANNABELLE’s LAMENT. Sure, Conniston had filled the entire area with derelict landmines, but as soon as they started going off if the LAMENT was anywhere in the vicinity she was just as vulnerable as the ARMSTRONG - if not more so. The whole point of this mission was stealth and deception, and as every second ticked forward without having the bait taken Rainner grew more uneasy.

“Soon, Captain.” Conniston soothed. “Very soon.”

~*~
Location: USS ARMSTRONG
Scene: Bridge

Patting the young officer on the shoulder Thomas motioned to allow Phia’s communication to go out. Gravitating slowly to the science console Thomas stood there looking at the readout before making a few adjustment and nodding, “good, keep an eye out for these signature and anything like them. Try to scan in a broad spectrum; but, nothing too narrow to show that we have picked up anything that might help. Don’t let them know that we aren’t anything but what they may think.”

“Sir, we have a situation,” the young communications officer stated looking to Thomas and Aerdan.

Moving over both of them looked at the young officer’s screen as she explained, “there seems to be a signal trying to piggyback on the back of the communication Lt. Phia sent out. It is using access codes that I believe may have belong to Captain Harcourt.”

Aerdan looked to Thomas who was shooting a gland to Aerdan and then to Sylvia, The young officer looked up, “should I stop them?”

Aerdan shook his head, “Thomas, reverse Trojan horse?”

Nodding Thomas smiled, “Sylvia, take over. Let them have access but send them through a maze of non-essential systems like finding a needle in the haystack. Try to keep them off guard; but, at the point where we can cut them off when we need to.”

Sitting next to her Thomas waited until the signal had gained access to begin trying to trace it backwards to its point.

Sylvia Warren frowned and grit her teeth. “That’s exactly what it is, Commander. Someone is trying to access ARMSTRONG’s shields using Harcourt’s command codes remotely.”

Aerdan sucked a breath in through his teeth, inwardly hating that they had been right to be paranoid. “Route that signal through the holodeck simulation, let them believe our shields are lowering.” Turning towards the ops console, “Clarkson, get that deflector pulse up and running.”

“Yes, Sir!” the young officer punched in the commands as Thomas looked up from his console.

“It appears to be working.” the science officer reported.

Aerdan nodded lightly. “Good, keep a trace on every system they try to access and get me a location of where that signal is coming from.”

“It’s being relayed over the Nimbus communication towers, almost impossible to trace.” Varn’s voice was grim.

“Then we wait for them to play their hand. If they’re going to attack us, or beam over they’re going to have to decloak.” Commander Jos’ voice was focused as he stepped forward to the Angosian tactical officer. “Ensign Varell, I want your sensors focused in on any large energy surge. As soon as they decloak, fire to disable.”

She gave a small nod. “Y-yes sir.” Taking in a breath the green officer turned back to the Andorian. “What if they don’t have shields up?”

“Take the shot, Ensign, as soon as you get a chance.”

Chewing her bottom lip, she voiced the question that was on the mind of every young bridge officer. “What if Captain Harcourt is on that ship, Sir?”

Aerdan jos took in a long, slow breath. “Ensign, no Starfleet Captain would willingly give up their command codes to be used against their own ship. I must only conclude that Captain Harcourt is not being kept safely, and there is a growing chance that she is no longer alive. While it is a pressing concern to retrieve her and save her life if at all possible, our first concern is protecting the lives of the crew of the ARMSTRONG. This is clearly a hostile act. You will take your shot at the very first chance. are you capable of doing that?” He looked directly into her eyes with his piercing blue gaze, waiting for her to give an answer.

She was shaking, but to her credit she didn’t flinch as she processed all the information. “Y-yes, Sir. I will take the shot.”

~*~
Location: ANNABELLE’s LAMENT
Scene: Bridge

Two minutes twenty seconds. Cassie Rainner frowned. “It’s been too long. Idiot or no, they’re not dropping shields.”

Conniston smiled. “Well then, let’s let them think they are an armored turtle, impenetrable for the time.” He headed over towards her operations console, punching up a series of commands. “I’ll simply flood their ventilation systems with anesthezine. That should keep them quiet.”

Folding her arms across her chest, the mercenary Captain bit her tongue. So far very little on this mission had gone as planned. She had read the reports and tried her best to prepare for all possibilities. But her instincts were strong. She had been in command of the LAMENT for almost a decade now, and alarms were going off in her head telling her that they should be preparing to run. Only Conniston’s presence on her bridge was preventing that. “This had better work.”

“Don’t worry. I double-checked Harcourt’s codes through the Starfleet database. They’re valid.” he soothed. All he had to do was access the main computer.

The station hummed, slowly connecting one computer interface to another. For a moment his signal jumped, dying before flaring up again. Conniston frowned. It was unusual, though not unheard of considering how many relays they were bouncing off of to keep their position secure. Though once he was in it was smooth sailing. “Flooding their main environmental controls with anesthetizine… now.”

~*~
Location: USS ARMSTRONG
Scene: Bridge

“We’re getting a code-command signal!” Lieutenant Warren yelped from the back of the bridge. “Trying to reroute into the simulation program.”

“Our own codes are staying steady.” Thomas reported, his fingers flying over the controls.

“What are they trying to access?” Commander Jos asked, turning back towards the pair.

Lt. Commander Varn looked up, frowning slightly. “You were right. Looks like they’re trying to flood the ship with anesthezine gas.”

“Well, they’re now flooding a subroutine with anesthizine code.” Sylvia returned with a smirk.

Aerdan turned towards the viewscreen his jaw setting into a firm, hard line. “Helm, bring us to a stop.”

“Sir?”

“If we’re all supposed to be asleep, let’s play dead for a while. Clarkson, run a quick pulse through non-essential systems. Make it seem as if there were a few last minute changes in desperation.” The Andorian ordered, calmly looking out at the viewscreen. Both officers gave their assents and around him the bridge lights flickered. “And now we wait for them to make the next move.”

Behind him the bridge doors slid open. “Who’s making what move?” Phia demanded, sliding onto the bridge. “And did we just lose power?”

“We’re playing dead and wounded, luring our cloaked lion out to play.” Commander Jos replied.
Phia arched a brow at this. “What the hell has been going on?”

Thomas stood slowly before crossing his arms, "Just a game of cat and mouse where the mouse had built a cat trap."

Sylvia watched the console and the codes for changes and anomalies. She knew as far as the computer was concerned the ARMSTRONG was now under the direct command of Aerdan Jos and even if Captain Harcourt herself were inputting them her codes would no longer work.

The young crew had fallen even more silent than before, if it were even possible. They watched and waited each reacting according to the strengths and weaknesses they had. Looking at the faces of everyone Thomas breathed in deep before nodding to Sylvia slightly smiling.

"Commander, if they believe we are asleep they are going to try and lower our shields. Their actions show they are well organized and have possible back up plans," Thomas stated looking to the console readings, "and a shield drop we can't fake with the holodeck. I recommend placing security teams at essential areas."

Thomas knew that the only way they may be able to draw them out would be by actually dropping their shields, exposing them even if just for a moment to the chance of intrusion or attack. For the moment they could only wait and fill Phia in on the situation.

"They’re not idiots which tells me they have a plan that they’re sticking to,” Phia said slowly, as if the words were wrung out from her. It was as close to praise as she ever got. Sighing she held herself straight and studied the viewscreen for a long drawn out moment, “Strategies require methodical planning, timing, and impulse control. The question isn’t why they haven’t launched an offensive," Phia commented “That’s what they want you to think.”

Aerdan’s antennae twisted at that in confusion before straightening themselves out and sliding back again. “It’s 3-D chess,” he commented softly. “They haven’t launched the obvious offensive here because there’s a less obvious, but more deadly, offensive tactic they *want* to take. They want to push us, so we can push them.”

“And they said you were untrainable in the finer points of killing people,” Phia smiled sardonically. Looking over, the Bolian/Vulcan raised a black eyebrow, “Well don’t let all my Counseling sessions years ago be for naught...what’s it going to be?”

Aerdan twisted his lips up, “I know what I think but I’m curious...what do you say, Counselor?”

“The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few,” Phia advised. “And the needs of the many would be better served if shitheads like them died,” she said nodding her head towards the viewscreen. “Have the offensive with the counter ready right behind it. The 3-D chess is about thinking move-by-move not blitzkrieging. That would be our best option, in my opinion.”

Aerdan nodded slowly. “They have to drop shields to be able to transport. This means there will be a discernable power change no matter how good their cloak is. But they won’t transport unless our shields are dropped.”

“You can be taught.” Phia deadpanned.

Commander Jos nodded slowly in agreement, hitting the communications on the Captain’s console. [[Commander Jos to Security.]]

[[Lieutenant R’ralis here.]] Came a feminine Caitian purr.

[[Lieutenant, we may have uninvited guests beaming over from the cloaked, unidentified hostile ship we are engaging. They are expecting our crew to be incapacitated. Station security teams at all critical junctions]]

He could hear her mulling this over before she growled a throaty assent. [[Yes, Commander. Are we expecting hostility?]]

[[Yes. Have crew in those areas in defensible positions or ready to defend themselves as you see fit.]] He replied, hoping that the voice on the other end had enough experience to be able to make those decisions.

[[Yes, Sir.]] She sounded confident. Aerdan could only hope.

As the commline closed he turned towards Commander Varn. “Thomas, watch that signal relay Drop shields as the codes come in.” Stepping forward he looked towards Ensign Varell. “Watch for a power shift as soon as we drop shields. Fire as soon as you have a lock.”

“Yes, Sir.” She nodded, her body tense and ready.

“Clarkson, as soon as Varell is able to take the shot, get our shields back up.”

“Yes, Sir!” Clarkson replied, looking all too relieved to be able to ready a defense.

“Everyone else be ready. This bridge is a target area and we already know they have a lock on us.” Aerdan looked around. Phia had already taken defensible position, her weapon out.

“Here it comes!” Thomas called from the back, gritting his teeth. “Clarkson, lower shields on my mark… cascade drop… now!”

Clarkson issued a silent prayer and keyed in the commands. Warning lights flashed about them as the ARMSTRONG’s defenses lowered, leaving them naked and vulnerable.

Ensign Varell twitched, her eyes bugging out of her head as she stared at the readouts.

“Steady, Ensign.” Aerdan spoke in a calm, lisping murmur. “Just wait…”

The viewscreen showed only the taunting blackness, punctuated by the large red smear of the planet below. The bridge crew of the ARMSTRONG barely dared to breathe.

“Got it!” Varell’s triumphant shout was cut off by the shrill whine of a transporter. The ARMSTRONG’s phaser’s lanced through space, rewarded by a bright orange flowering of sparks on the viewscreen, as the golden glow of transporters filled the bridge. The chaos was followed by a cry of surprise and a sudden gridwork of phaser fire erupted across the bridge.

In a moment everything went pear-shaped.

The smell of charred flesh and death his Aerdan Jos’ nostrils as Phia caught one of the intruders square in the chest before he even finished materializing. The man dropped to the deck, dead, as his molecules finished their final reconstitution. Next was the scream of Clarkson as a blast of disruptor fire tore through his left arm, spraying blood over his console display. To his credit, the young officer raised the shields and he clung to his station. Even more impressive was that Varell had the wherewithal to retarget and fire a torpedo towards the same target before diving for cover behind her own console. On the viewscreen, there was a burst of white and the aftershock of an explosion rocked the ARMSTRONG as the ANNABELLE’s LAMENT was torn in two.

Another burst of phaser fire. Another black-clad body dropped to the floor, and a disruptor rifle clattered to the deck. As another retaliation arc of disruptor fire burned through the bridge, alarm sirens wailed. Commander Jos pinned his antennae down flat to the top of his head and dipped down, grabbing the disruptor and pointing it at the remaining assailants.

“Drop your weapons and stand down.” he commanded in a light lisping tone.

“Go to hell.” the one standing in the forefront spat.

A two inch diameter hole appeared in his chest, blood forming a wet, oily slick across the black clothing. “Gladly sending you there.” Phia deadpanned from her corner.

Three down, one to go. Aerdan’s antennae twitched as the last one spoke in a quiet, commanding tone. “Not so fast.”

Aerdan had his weapon up and at the ready, as did Phia, only to find to his dismay that this last assailant was counting on that. He had neatly wedged himself in the back near the science station, using Thomas Varn as a convenient meat shield. Thomas grimaced in pain as the attacked wrenched one of his wings backward in a particularly painful manner and trained a disruptor at his head.

“This isn’t a negotiation.” Phia called darkly.

“Like hell it isn’t!” Thomas snapped back, wondering how Phia would like it if a disruptor was pointed at her head.

“She’s right… it isn’t” the assailant smirked. He took careful aim at the ops panel and fired. Lieutenant Clarkson yelped, stumbling backwards to where Varell was hiding, collapsing in a bloody heap beside her. In his panic he didn’t even realize the shot wasn’t meant for him.

Alarms rang out once again: shields were dropping. In an instant both Thomas and his attacker were engulfed by a shimmering golden light - the same transporter beam that had taken captain Harcourt. Phia gave a dark curse.

Aerdan whirled, opening a commline. [[Engineering - reroute control of the shields to your location and raise them!]]

There was a few seconds of silence and then [[Shields are back, Sir!]]

Just in time.

One of the derelicts lazily orbiting NIMBUS III exploded in shower of white light and black shrapnel, knocking the ARMSTRONG backwards in a tremendous shockwave. The bridge crew scrambled to find something to hang on to as the shields groaned and the lights dimmed.

“What the hell was that?” Phia called as the ship righted itself and the lights slowly flared back to their usual brightness.

“One of the derelicts.” Lieutenant Warren reported, frowning darkly at her readouts. “This area is full of them, and it’s a very good bet that most, if not all, are booby trapped.”

“That transporter beam headed to one of them.” Varell said, her voice cracking. She had never been through anything like this in her young life and the stress was starting to show on her features.

“Can you pinpoint which one?” Aerdan asked, from the position where he was kneeling beside Lieutenant Clarkson, administering first aid to his bleeding arm.

“Give me a little time and I think I can.” Varell replied.

Aerdan nodded. “Sylvia, assist Ensign Varell.” Taking in a breath, he hit his commbadge. [[Cade, I need a medical team to the bridge, I have injured here.]]

[[I’m coming up there myself. I got another problem, two birds one stone.]] Doctor Foster snapped back in his usual gruff tone.

[[Should I even ask?]]

[[Nope. Tell you when I get there.]]

Aerdan sighed, closing the comm line and opening a new one to security. [[Commander Jos to Lieutenant R’ralis. Are your areas secure?]]

[[Yes, Sir. we had eight hostiles in three areas. We have taken four prisoner, the other four committed suicide, sir.]] The sorrow in her purring voice was clearly evident.

[[Understood, Lieutenant.]] He felt his antennae curl downwards reflecting the emotion in her voice. [[It wasn’t your fault.]]

She took in a deep breath. [[I know, Sir.]] The pain was still there.

The commline closed, leaving a dark silence, which was finally punctuated by a gleeful shout. “Got something!” Varell waved to her console. “I’m reading three life signs - one very faint - on a ship that is hiding on the far side of the third moon.”

“Oh thank God…” Sylvia murmured from the engineering station towards the back of the bridge.

Aerdan quirked a snowy brow, looking towards Varell. “Good work, Ensign.”

“Careful.” Phia cautioned before Aerdan could say more. “Remember this is chess, and I think that was the mastermind who snatched our science officer.”

“We can’t leave Thomas in their clutches!” Lieutenant Warren protested passionately.

Phia shrugged. “So you want to rescue him. Ok, fine. Stupid, but I won’t stop you. Just please for the love of whatever God you believe in, do not go rushing in there.”

“We won’t” Aerdan confirmed.

“Rushing in where?” Cade’s darkly unpleasant voice carried through the bridge from the turbolift. “What the hell happened. This place smells like a grill caught fire…” he trailed off nearly tripping over a dead body. “Oh, I see.”

“Over here, Cade.” Aerdan waved his fellow doctor towards the fallen Lieutenant Clarkson before standing up, wiping the thick sheen of red blood off his hands. As Foster dropped down with his medkit to tend to the man, Aerdan turned towards Phia. “Ok, whoever he is, he’s got Thomas and he’s got a backup plan. We may have taken his primary ship away, but it seems he still had tricks up his sleeve.”

“If this entire area is littered with landmines, the very best option would be to back this ship out and fly back home.” Phia huffed.

“What about a shuttlecraft?” Sylvia posed.

“What about a suicide mission?” Phia countered.

“I’d go.” she sassed back.

“Of course you would. You sleep with the hostage.” the Bolian retorted.

“So? You wouldn’t go after him even if you did sleep with him.” Cade’s gruff tone came from behind the Ops console.

Phia shot him a murderous look. “Go fuck yourself, Cade.”

“Don’t need to!” he cheerfully called back.

“STOP!” Aerdan’s voice raised to an impressively commanding shout. The bridge fell silent. “This bickering gets us nowhere.” he waited until all eyes were on him. “Sylvia, how long would it take you to upgrade the shielding on a shuttlecraft?”

Her eyes went wide. “Six hours minimum.”

“We don’t have six hours.” Aerdan replied darkly. “Thomas doesn’t have six hours.”

Warren squirmed under the intense sapphire gaze. “I can rig a deflector to give us pulse shielding for one, maybe two blasts in twenty minutes.”

“Do it. You launch in twenty five.”

Warren gave a focused nod, turned on her heels and ran off of the bridge for the shuttlebay.

“She’s gonna die.” Phia intoned.

“She’s lived through worse and I can’t stop her.” Commander Jos returned, turning towards the viewscreen. “I wouldn’t leave a crewmember behind, either.”

“That’s because you’re a self sacrificing nutbrain.” She folded her arms across her chest and turned away.

This mission might get them all killed after all.

~*~



A JP by:



Sarah Albertini-Bond
Lt. Phia
Counselor
USS ARMSTRONG

and

Justin Owens
Lt. Commander Thomas Varn
Chief Science Officer
USS PENDRAGON

and


Jamie LeBlanc
Lt. Commander Aerdan Jos
Executive Officer
USS PENDRAGON