The Descent

Posted on Jan 14, 2016 @ 9:09pm by Captain Michael Turlogh Kane

Mission: Promethean

"THE DESCENT"

(Continued from "Fools And Acquisition")

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Location: Lavenza II
Scene: Snow plain


The gull-winged Annabelle's Lament continued her descent through the soupy atmosphere of Lavenza's second planet. The ice-world below was covered with a layer of permafrost up to a kilometer thick, but that did not mean the planet was deserted.

Far below on the surface of that frigid world, a transponder beacon stuck its nose up above the parapet of an underground facility, and began to flash out its localiser co-ordinates, guiding the privateer on course down through the clouds and snowstorms, drawing it in like a magnet.

A dull thud and the grinding of giant pistons sounded out through the white storm, as the doors to the surface facility's docking bay rumbled into life, the vibration of their machinery shaking off the bay's cloak of snow and frost. The two doors split open to reveal a gloomy docking port beneath, yawning awake to receive their incoming guest.

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Location: Annabelle's Lament
Stardate: [2.15]0115.0110
Scene: Bridge


As the Annabelle's Lament touched down in the docking bay, the ship gave a shudder. Transitioning from the vacuum of space to the gravity of the planet's atmosphere, and then down through the miles to be sealed inside the pressurised bio-dome of this secret facility was not doing the superstructure any favours.

Looking around at her motley crew, Cassidy Rainner decided to off-load the lot of them as soon as they were paid for this job. It was time again to split the booty and go their separate ways - all except she, Trixie and Evaer. They'd take the money, take the Lament to the nearest freeport and offload Goldstadt, Crichton, and Brass. No hard feelings, she mused. Get the scum off the ship, relax for a couple of weeks, take on a new crew and look for a new job.

"Outside pressure equalised," reported Evaer from what passed as the operations station. "Opening the hatch." He flipped a switch, and from somewhere in the bowels of the ship came an answering mechanical whine, as the Lament's entry ramp lowered to the deck-plating outside.

"We're going to be getting paid now?" asked Goldstadt with a toothy grin. "Going to find out what this job's been all about, huh?"

Rainner shook her head. "This facility is top-secret to our clients. If you breathe a word of it to anyone, they'll seek you out and kill you. You won't be safe anywhere, and that's something that I feel just fine about." She looked hard at the former marine, enjoying seeing the confusion flicker on his ugly face. "There's a secure lobby area attached to this docking bay, where you'll all be resticted to while I meet with the client. From what I understand, there is food, drink and a holosuite waiting for us."

Goldstadt rubbed his hands together and got to his feet. "Well, what in the hell are we waiting for?"

The five of them - Rainner, Evaer, Goldstadt, Brass and Trixie - decamped from the bridge and walked into the ship's main corridor, where Jake Crichton was just climbing up the ladder from the engine room to meet them.

"Mister Crichton," said Rainner, inclining her head at him, remembering the pleasure she took from beating him yesterday. "How's my ship?"

Crichton looked like he was going through the delirium tremens - he was shivering with sweat and looked like he needed a stiff drink. "Yeah, good. Listen, Captain, a couple of the hull's bulkheads need to be scrubbed of any leftover rads from the metaphasic shields. Our superstructure could also use some maintenance. I mean, one or two of the strongpoints are looking a bit shaky."

Rainner nodded. "We'll be grounded for a few hours here. You can do it after you get some food and rest."

The engineer seemed amazed at the reply, like he had been expecting another beating from her. "Right," he nodded, wiping his greasy hands on his shirt.

Together, the six of them walked down the Lament's ramp into the facility's docking bay. The place was underlit and nondescript. The great docking bay doors had sealed shut again, leaving the arctic weather outside, and aside from one door that had a red-lighted control panel beside it, the bay was featureless. As one, they looked around in some uncertainty.

The red light on the door's control panel changed to green with a light beep, and the doors opened with a grating shear of metal. A man was waiting in the well-lit doorway, dressed in a dark blue lab coat and a black one-piece jumpsuit underneath. Silhouetted by the light from behind him, he looked to be around forty, but his skin was smooth like he had just undergone a rejuve job. His hair was the wing of some dark brown bird, high and swept back over reptilian green eyes. He wore a pair of pince-nez HUD spectacles that perched precariously on the end of his sharp nose - the lenses were flashing with a datastream that he seemed to take no notice of.

The Lament's crew stopped when they saw him, but Rainner stepped forward, holding up the portable isolinear flash drive. "We're here to deliver the goods, and to be paid." She put emphasis on the second half of her sentence.

The man stepped forward, a satisfied smirk splitting his lips. "The crew of the Annabelle's Lament," he said, looking at each of them just long enough to make them uncomfortable.

Rainner put her other hand on her gunbelt, running a thumb over the barrel of her blaster. She and Evaer knew who this man was - they had taken him on a short trip to the Nimbus system two years ago in search of some sort of artifact buried in the desert sands of the third planet, but the whole thing had gone tits-up when the USS Armstrong had arrived on the scene and got involved. She hadn't entirely realised it then, but this scientist was one of the agents of Richard Edgerton, the new Federation dictator, and although their mission to Nimbus had been a failure, she and the former crew of the Lament had done enough to warrant a call-back from the powers-that-be some months ago. She bowed slightly. "Good to be back, Doctor."

The man returned the bow. "Doctor Saul Conniston, ladies and gentlemen," he said. "Welcome to Project Promethean."

The Lament's crew looked at each other. It was obvious that nobody cared.

Conniston seemed unperturbed. He raised a clawed hand and beckoned them into the light. "Step forward and be rewarded," he said, still smiling.

They hesitated a moment, but stepped forward into the next chamber, and it was like being born again. The gloom of the docking bay gave way to a large, well-lit room that was littered with plush sofas, large soft beds, a fancy dining table and chairs, and a state-of-the-art food replicator. One one wall, six bubble doors led into holosuite booths, their virtual catalogs flashing across them, showing naked alien women engaged in various point-of-view sexual acts.

Conniston pointed it all out. Under proper lighting he looked much less intimidating. "The replicator makes real food and alcohol by combining the molecular elements of the desired dish or beverage, and any order can be customised to your particular taste," he said airily. "The holosuite software has been bypassed and includes several pleasure programs that have been outlawed in the Federation. Whatever your depravity, you'll be able to sate it. I invite you to relax and take your ease while I examine and download the data you have brought me. All except you, Captain Rainner. You may accompany me deeper into the complex while your crew remains here."

Rainner nodded. Already, Crichton and Brass were making for the replicator while Goldstadt was scrolling through the available sex programs on one of the holosuites - she looked away in loathing when he stopped to leer at a picture of a young Terran boy standing in front of a sonic shower. Trixie was splayed out on one of the sofas getting comfortable, while Evaer was looking around in wonder, a smile splitting his blue face.

She followed Conniston through the only other door in the room, a smooth featureless thing that looked more like a bulkhead. Behind it was a turbolift. Together, they stepped inside while Conniston typed something into the keypad. The turbolift lurched, and Rainner felt her stomach lurch with it as they began to descend into the bowels of the planet.

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Location: USS Phoenix, arriving imminently at Lavenza
Scene: The Vulgar Tribble


Michael Turlogh Kane had just finished breakfast. John Doe was one of the few non-Human chefs who knew how to properly cook Irish food - customising it from the bland recipes available in the replicator database - and so until a few moments ago, his plate was loaded with synthetic bacon and potatoes, blood puddings and sausages and heavily-buttered soda bread. As he swallowed the last mouthful, he found himself dreamily looking out the viewing port, that was giving him a magnificent view of the starfield ahead, all blurred like streaks of white paint on black canvas.

"That'll stuff'll clog ya arteries, Cap'n," came a familiar voice.

Kane looked up to see Kassandra Thytos standing there. "They can grow me new arteries," he said wryly.

Kassandra had a bit of an unsure smile on her face, and her hands were extended forward, holding a plate of small cakes. "Ya'll want a cupcake for Jim Kirk Day?" she ventured.

Kane took one of the cakes and motioned for her to sit down. "Thank you, Major." He sniffed somewhat suspiciously at it. "This is real, isn't it? It's not out of a replicator, I mean. What's it made of?"

"Quadrotriticale. An' some syrup and such." Kass sat down. "It ain't poisonous or anythin'. Ah been spreadin' 'em around the ship all mornin' an' ain't no-one ended up in the shitter cursin' mah name."

Kane bit into the cake, immediately tasting warm sweetness and some odd combination of spices. He chewed a bit. It was agreeable enough. He nodded in appreciation. "Thank you, Major."

"Yeah, well, it don't mean we're engaged or nothin'," said Kass absently as she looked out at the starfield.

Kane frowned at her.

Kass straightened up. "Sir, Ah have me a problem. Ah need ta talk ta ya about mah medical records, the ones them pirates stole."

"I'm listening."

Kass shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "There's a lotta stuff in mah med records. Classified stuff. Like about mah sensor nets. When Ah got 'em installed, the Corps made a big deala keepin' 'em as secret as they could in case everyone wanted 'em. There's plenty o' crazies out there'd happily cut out their own eyes if it meant they could have sensor nets instead."

"I can imagine," said Kane neutrally. "Go on."

"If'n it turns out that mah med records are bein' disseminated around the friggin' galaxy, then we need to notify someone, somewhere," said Kass. "An' Ah don' even know who the hell we'd tell, but Ah don' wanna put the ship or her crew in danger because some maniac zeroes me 'cause he fancies cuttin' mah nets outta me and puttin' 'em inta him."

Kane nodded. "I understand, Major." He thought for a moment. "We're close enough behind the privateer ship that we'll be in a position to stop them transmitting the data to anyone. When we attempt to retrieve our medical data, we'll destroy them if we can't recover them. Good enough?"

Kass shrugged. "Good 'nuff."

There was a flash of light outside. Through the viewing port, the starfield flickered like a million fireflies, then each streak of light coalesced and solidified into a single pinprick. Ahead, hanging like a bauble on black velvet, was a small planet, ice-blue and shrouded by a thick atmosphere. Clouds scudded across its surface, half the world lit up by the light of a far-distant pair of suns.

Kass blinked at the suddenness of the ship's arrival in the Lavenza star system. "Looks like we're here."

Kane's communicator chirped. It was Byte. [[Captain Kane, to the bridge.]]

"Acknowledged." Kane tapped his communicator and got up. "Thanks for the cupcake, Major. Duty calls."

He walked away from the table, leaving Kass alone at the viewing port, the white ice-world getting closer and closer.

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Location: Lavenza II secret facility
Scene: Turbolift


As the turbolift kept going slowly down into the facility, Cassidy Rainner listened to the hum of its engine and wondered how deep into the earth the complex went. She glanced to her left - Saul Conniston was standing stock still, patiently waiting with his hands clasped together to his front. He seemed to be studying the data stream that was scrolling up along the lenses of his spectacles, but she wasn't sure. He could easily have been staring into space. She strained to see if she could make out any of the data -

Suddenly, like a spider, he moved quickly, turning towards her and putting his back to the opposite wall of the turbolift. He smiled disarmingly, and her stomach churned under his reptilian gaze.

"How big is this place?" she said, just to say something.

"Oh, quite big," said Conniston agreeably. "It's all automated from a control centre - environment, computers, sensors, that sort of thing. There are many levels, mostly storage rooms and various testing areas. My own living quarters, of course, plus the docking bay where your crew are idling."

Rainner nodded. "So there's a whole complement of staff here?"

Conniston slowly shook his head, still smiling that maddening smile. "Just me on my lonesome."

The turbolift slowed, then came to a stop. The doors hissed open, revealing a dimly-lit tritanium corridor stretching out ahead to where it terminated in a T-junction. There were doors to the left and right in the corridor that gave admittance into some rooms, and viewing ports built into the walls that allowed passers-by to see inside.

"Come, come!" Conniston walked out, beckoning her to follow. He walked onward up the tunnel, waving his clawed hand around as he advanced. "As I said, this whole facility is mostly automated. Heat and power are generated by tapping into the planet's molten core. The security system is incredibly complex. I don't have much control over it. Basically, if anyone not me or those I have approved, such as the brave crew of the Anabelle's Lament, penetrates our walls, then the security system completely seals the facility and releases all the test subjects to kill the interlopers."

Rainner was frowning. "Test sub - " She put a hand to her mouth and gasped in horror. Through one of the viewing ports, she could see into one of the rooms. Made up like a medical lab, the room contained an enormous upright biobed and a hovering autodoc machine, which flitted around the room like an insect, monitoring the bed's data stream. Strapped to the upright biobed was an enormous naked creature - it had a humanoid appearance, but its skin was grey and scaly like a lizard's. Huge muscles bulged out of its frame, rippling powerfully out from mighty arms and legs shaped like goddam tree trunks. A ridge-spur of thickened bone plate rose from behind the creatures head, giving it a kind of armoured hood. Its hands and feet terminated in thick black keratinised claws. But the face - the face was still recognisable as Human. There were two closed eyes, a mouth polluted with reeking tusks, and small ears - they were all as gray and scaled as the rest of its body. There were no genitals, nothing that could mark the monster as one gender or another.

Conniston paused idly. "I see you're captivated by Bronski," he said nonchalantly. "One of my most promising subjects. Don't be afraid, Captain Rainner. The autodoc ensures that he is being fed a cocktail of sedatives to keep him in oblivion - a perfectly modulated, dreamless coma state."

Rainner took her hand away from her mouth. There was a webbing of colour-coded IV tubing around the creature, threading through him like another circulatory system."That's a man?"

Conniston shook his head, but kept smiling like it was the most natural thing in the world. "Once, but no longer. One of the great successes of the Promethean project," he said. "A new prototype breed of shock trooper, genetically altered and enhanced with sections of various non-Human genomes to create an entirely new life-form. Some people might call him an abomination, but to me he's just plain old Mister Bronski."

He moved down the corridor again, and Rainner turned away from the awful sight. Conniston continued talking. "That's what Project Promethean is, Captain Rainner. You see, we Neo-Essentialists have always been most interested in tinkering with the Human genome. Committed as we are to the concept of Humanity First, we nevertheless acknowledge that a time will come when we need to impose population controls on other alien species within the Federation. This will likely not be achieved without blood-letting. Hence, this facility has been constructed - here, I will create an army of perfectly-crafted genetic super-soldiers to conquer the other worlds of the Federation."

Rainner wondered what the hell sort of madness she had found herself immersed in. "Is that why you wanted the fleet's medical records?"

"Of course! Genetic templates!" Conniston turned left at the T-junction. "This is not our first attempt at this sort of thing, either. Twenty years ago, we had two genetic projects underway, codenamed Harbinger and Demon, in the Elcaro system. Unfortunately, Starfleet destroyed the facility, but the data remained. Time and technology passed, and, well, here we are again. The chance to seize the medical records of one hundred thousand people in the new Starfleet was too good an opportunity to pass up. Hence, you were hired to seize their medical records and other genetic data besides."

Rainner understood. "I guess this facility is full of test subjects like Bronski, then?"

Conniston shrugged. "Mister Bronski is the only humanoid test subject. However, I have created many hundreds of varities of other creatures. Combining and reconstituting genetic material can result in all matter of strange new life-forms. However, like Bronski, they are all kept on ice in the lower levels." The corridor came to an end at a door. Conniston keyed a code into the control panel and it hissed open. "Come on, come on!"

Rainner followed him, deeper into the heart of madness.

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Location: USS Phoenix, orbiting high above
Scene: Bridge science station


"An arctic base?" said Aerdan incredulously.

{{So it appears, Commander,}} said Byte. The grey-skinned android was manipulating the controls of the bridge science station while Kane, Aerdan and Barton crowded around. {{Sensor data shows that the privateer vessel we are pursuing flew down into the atmosphere of the planet. The readings cut off with no warning near the surface.}}

"So," said Barton, "no mothership. That's one theory down the can."

Kane nodded. "But this still gives us a tactical advantage. By assuming a geosynchronous orbit above the base's estimated location, the Phoenix can prevent the privateers' escape."

"Agreed," said Aerdan, "but who has constructed this base? It's not marked on any of our charts, not listed in any of our databases. What have we stumbled across here?"

"We need to get down there to get answers," said Barton.

{{That may not be advisable,}} said Byte. {{We cannot beam an away team into the location we merely estimate the base to be. The away team might rematerialise inside solid rock.}}

"Other options?" said Kane.

{{Deployment of an away team via shuttle is possible,}} mused Byte. {{However, away team members would have to take environmental factors into consideration. Not solely for the temperature, but for the potentially dangerous atmospheric conditions. Sensors are also detecting numerous exhaust ports on the surface that probably lead down into the underground facility. Entrance to the facility should be possible through one of them.}}

Kane paused for a moment. In his younger days, he would have been the first to volunteer for a mission like this, or to encourage the captain of the ship to authorise an away team. He weighed it up in his mind - any away team was likely to be heading into danger, but so many questions needed to be answered about how and why the fleet's medical records were stolen. Communications seemed likely as long as the away team was on the surface, so he could still exercise command and control from that point of view. He shot a quick glance at the expectant faces of Barton and Aerdan, knowing that this was one of those moments where he had to commit to trust the abilities of his officers.

Finally, he nodded. "Very well. Commander Jos, assemble an away team and prep a shuttle for departure. Find out whatever's going on down there."

The Andorian snapped into action. "Yes, Captain. Lieutenants Barton, BaShen, and Dalziel, you're with me."

{{Recommend you take an engineer,}} said Byte.

"And someone from medical," added Kane. "Maybe Major Thytos for some extra firepower."

Aerdan nodded, lifting his head and speaking into the air. "Commander Crichton, Ensign Perry, Major Thytos - report to shuttlebay one for away team duty."

The acknowledgements from Engineering and sickbay came quickly, and as the away team prepared to leave the bridge, Kane gave some last-minute instructions to Aerdan. "No heroics down there, Commander. If someone shoots at you, shoot back. Destruction of our medical records, instead of retrieval, is an acceptable tactical outcome of your mission. Understood?"

"Understood, Captain." Aerdan, Russ, Eve, and Barton piled into the turbolift, their faces resolute. Kane watched until the doors closed, before turning back to Byte.

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Location: Lavenza II arctic base
Scene: Control centre


Saul Conniston led Cassidy Rainner into the heart of his operation. The room was smaller than one might have imagined, but there was enough monitoring equipment that one single person could see what was happening anywhere in the base at any time. As Rainner looked around, she saw a monitor showing what her crew were doing - Goldstadt and Trixie were in holosuites, their faces masks of euphoria, while Brass, Evaer and Crichton were eating and drinking their fill. Crichton brandished a fork and said something, and the other two laughed at him.

"Don't get distracted, Captain Rainner," said Conniston. "I've yet to show you the crowning glory of this project."

Rainner moved toward the rear of the room where Conniston was standing beside a large rectangular box-like device. She had seen pictures of old-style deep coffins for burying the dead in, or large freezers used to store meat in - this thing looked like one of those. The lid was transparent, and the interior was empty, but the sides of the box were adorned with various types of sensor and monitoring equipment. She ran her eyes over the displays - it seemed to be some sort of mash-up of a transporter too, but it was all over her head. "What is it?" she asked.

Conniston's eyes gleamed. "It's where the magic happens, my dear. This is what I call the Promethan Device. It is an astonishingly-complicated piece of machinery, the workings of which I have no doubt you would not understand, but I can break it down into layman's terms for you." Conniston touched a control pad, and the lid smoothly slid to one side with a hum. "Like the replicators in this facility's guest area, the Promethean Device is capable of reconstituting genetic and biometric data, combining them together, and then running that amalgamated data pattern through a transporter-like device that assembles them anew. With a combination of a person's genetic data and a previous transporter log, I can blend them together in the Device and create - "

"Clones?" breathed Rainner.

"I suppose you could call them that," said Conniston, "but Mister Bronski is no clone, and that is but one possible application of this machine. Think of the Promethean Device as a test tube, into which genetic data can be placed, mixed up, and converted. I can create organic material along the lines of the various genetic templates that I input into the Device - limbs, organs, blood - that sort of thing. By very careful blending of genetic materials, I can create test subjects of higher life-forms. And by trial and error and perfecting my craft, I can create new life, such as Mister Bronski." He ran a finger along the device's smooth edge. "This is how I have been able to create all my test subjects."

Rainner nodded. Her blood ran cold at the thought of it. She reached into her pocket and fished out the isolinear flash drive. "Here's the data."

Conniston reached behind the Promethean Device and picked up a carrying case. He unbuckled the case and opened it, revealing a number of compartments within. Each compartment held a stack of gleaming yellow shards of metal. "One hundred thousand strips of gold-pressed latinum," he smiled, "in return for one hundred thousand new genetic templates."

He proffered the bag. "So, Captain Rainner, shall we make a deal?"

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Location: Lavenza II
Scene: Surface, many levels above


The Runabout-class USS Lena touched down on the frozen surface of Lavenza II, and immediately began to be buffeted by the wind outside. Inside, the Phoenix's away team began gearing up, donning heavy winter coats with synth-fur collars, heavy thermal gloves and facemasks, all colour coded to red, blue, and yellow. Onto external bandoliers they hitched tricorders and phasers before checking everything again.

"Remember," said Aerdan loudly enough so that they could hear him over the droning of the outside wind, "the atmosphere of this world is breathable for a limited duration. Your bodies can extract the oxygen from the argon-rich air, but any more than about half-an-hour's exposure is dangerous. Argon is a dense gas and will pack your alveoli, interfering with the gas exchange in your lungs. You'll eventually suffocate if you're caught outside for long enough. It should only take us a few minutes to walk to the nearest exhaust port, so make sure you keep one another in sight at all times and we'll be fine."

"If the cold doesn't get us first," said Jake, zipping up his yellow thermal overcoat. "How cold is it out there anyway?"

Eve checked the thermometer. "Seventy-five Kelvins."

"Doesn't sound bad," said Barton from behind his facemask.

"That's over three hundred degrees below in Fahrenheit," smiled Russ wryly from the pilot's seat.

"Hard nipples weather," quipped Kass.

"Don't take off your thermals," said Sam Perry. "You'll be dead in less than two minutes if you do."

Aerdan waited until everyone was prepared. He donned his own thermal gear, adjusted his facemask, and pulled up his hood. Not one inch of anyone's skin was exposed. He gave the signal to activate comms and gestured for them to exit the Lena.

The shuttle's rear platform door opened. As the first crack of air rushed in, the temperature plummeted. They stepped out into the frozen shitstorm.

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Location: Lavenza II facility
Scene: Guest Area


Jake Crichton scratched his eye patch and turned his mind to repairing the Annabelle's Lament. Behind him, Goldstadt and Trixie stirred in their holosuite fantasy worlds, and Evaer and Brass slept soundly in separate beds, each competing with the other in some unconscious snoring contest. He had eaten and drank his fill of delicious food, and felt almost human again.

The Lament lay where she had landed, the great doors above her sealed shut. Jake paused a moment, going over what he needed to do, and scratched his eyepatch again.

Then the thought struck him - if the docking bay doors were closed, how was the Lament supposed to fly out of here? There was no control panel anywhere he could see, and the room next door sure wasn't a docking control bay. Perhaps it was automated?

Jake looked around and wondered for how long they'd be imprisoned here.

**************************************************

Location: Surface
Scene: Facility exhaust port


As the whiteout swirled around them, the away team finally made it to the exhaust port they were looking for. The colour of the away team's overcoats - Aerdan's command red, Kassandra's green, and everyone else's mixture of blues and yellows - were only barely visible now. The permafrost had stuck to the overcoats like a cloying scent, beginning the freezing process on knees and elbows and neck joints, slowly covering everything in a fine layer of white frost that blotted out all other colour. There was no longer any sign of the Lena, which lay about five hundred feet behind them. Visibility was at only a few metres.

Aerdan activated his communicator. "Jos to Phoenix."

[[Kane here,]] came the reply from somewhere far above.

"Away team has reached the facility exhaust port now," reported Aerdan, his voice sounding tinny inside his facemask. "Tricorder data is suffering atmospheric interference, but initial scans show facility is many levels deep into the surface. No sign of the privateer ship - we surmise an enclosed docking bay. Attempting to make entry now."

[[Understood, Commander. Carry on.]]

Aerdan stepped back and nodded to Barton, easily the most recognisable in the swirling snow due to his hulking frame. Barton levelled a phaser at the grilled exhaust port and fired, the orange lance cutting through the frozen tritanium bars like they were warm butter. The whine of the phaser was almost inaudible over the high wind, and Aerdan gestured to the others, encouraging them to bunch up together even as they wiped the frost off their facemasks.

Barton ceased fire, leaned down and wrenched the grille free. The interior of the exhaust port was obviously designed to be a secondary access and egress point from the facility - a ladder stretched away from them, down into the dark.

Aerdan gestured to Kassandra, and the marine slung her pulse rifle onto her shoulder. Of the entire away team, she was the only one carrying a rifle, and had even brought along a solitary frag grenade. She swung her legs over the opening and began to climb down,quickly disappearing into the dark.

Aerdan motioned to Barton, who hauled his huge frame onto the ladder and followed Kass down. Sam Perry next, then Eve Dalziel. Russ, then Jake. Aerdan activated his communicator again. "Away team now entering underground facility through exhaust port."

[[Extreme caution, Commander Jos.]]

"Understood, Captain." Aerdan put his feet onto the top rungs of the ladder and began to climb down. Below, the searchlights of the other away team flashed around as they continued their descent.

*******************************************

Scene: Facility Command Centre


Cassidy Rainner passed over the isolinear flash drive containing the stolen Starfleet medical records with her left hand, taking the case full of gold-pressed latinum with her right hand. "Pleasure doing business, Doctor Conniston," she said. "Me and my ship will be leaving as quickly as possible."

"As you wish," said Conniston idly. He wasn't looking directly at her - he was turning the isolinear chip over and over in his fingers. He leaned down and connected it to the Promethean Device. The two units quickly interfaced, and file transfer began. "When you get back into the turbolift, just ask it to take you back to the guest area. I'll open the docking bay doors from here and report your success to the government on Earth."

"Right." Rainner began to back away. She wanted nothing more than to get the hell out of here with her pay.

Her life changed forever when an alarm klaxon suddenly sounded somewhere deep within the complex. Conniston's head jerked up in shock, and he moved quickly to his control panel.

"What's that?" asked Rainner worriedly.

Conniston shook his head in bewilderment. "It's the security system!" he exclaimed. "The facility has been breached from the outside, and unauthorised bio-signatures are on the top level!"

Rainner recalled the conversation she had had with Crichton and Brass on the bridge aboard the Lament about the possibility of Starfleet finding their metaphasic trace, and knew immediately who it was that had entered the complex. Deciding to keep her mouth shut, she turned for the turbolift. "Well, it's been nice, Doc," she said quickly, "but I'm getting the hell out of here."

"No you aren't!" yelled Conniston, slamming his fist atop the control panel. "Nobody's going anywhere! I told you that the security system was almost completely independent! I have next to no control over it!"

Rainner looked back at him in shock. "We'll blast the docking bay doors open with the Lament's disruptors - "

"The bay's enclosed in metres-thick tritanium. The shockwaves from your weapons fire will mean you'll cripple your own ship before you ever fly out of here." Conniston traced a finger along the data stream as the alarm klaxon continued to blare deep within the complex. "The security system has sealed the facility off with bulkheads and forcefields. Those intruders aren't getting back out the way they came in."

"How can we get out if we can't fly out?" said Rainner, feeling a pang of fear.

Conniston looked her square in the eye. "We can't."

Rainner remembered something else. "The genetic test subjects on the lower levels. You said the security system would wake them up..."

Conniston nodded and pointed to a monitor showing an unnumbered corridor somewhere deep within the facility. Skittering down the corridor were all manner of nightmarish creatures, alternately attacking each other and fleeing into air ducts, access tunnels, spilling out of laboratories and storage rooms as they were all roused from their slumber.

He swallowed in fear. "They're all loose."

**********************************************

Scene: Below the exhaust port


The away team covered their ears as the alarm klaxon blared out beside them. Abruptly it stopped, leaving behind a foreboding silence.

Aerdan took down his hood and pulled off his facemask. Inside the regulated environment of the complex, he was starting to get hot inside his thermal clothing. "Sounds like we've been discovered. Prepare for resistance."

Kass and Barton moved to opposite sides of the away team, covering the corridor in both directions with their weapons.

Eve was studying her tricorder. "There's a forcefield above us. We can't get out."

Jake tapped his communicator. "Away team to Phoenix. Come in, Phoenix."

There was no reply, only a mocking silence.

Aerdan felt the pressure of his situation as Russ and Sam Perry looked on.

"Sir," asked Sam, "what will we do now?"

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Scene: Bronski's Room


The enormous grey-skinned creature was waking up as the security system began to override the activity of the autodoc machine. First, a dull pressure, barely perceived by his brain. The valves regulating the flow of sedatives seized shut, and a new array of pumps came to life, flushing newly-synthesised chemicals into the comatose monster's circulatory system.

Adrenaline, firey and vital, poured into his veins. Scaled flesh swelled against its fetters, and sweat beaded like hot dew in the armpits and between the legs. Veins distended, thick with molten fury.

Suddenly, the eyes bulged open as the drugs hit the blood, sparking crystalline urgency. The restraining chains rattled, stretched, then broke as enormous arms flexed.

Bronski bolted erect, flexing his lethal keratinised claws, stamping his legs like a bull. A third and final megadose of adrenaline tore through him, and he trembled with power under its onslaught. With one mighty leap, he smashed through the perspex of the cell's viewing port, shattering it into a million pieces.

Standing free and full of violent rage, Bronski threw his head back and bellowed long and loud, his voice promising nothing except relentless murder. The noise of it rolled into access tunnels and air ducts, and everyone who heard it stopped dead in their tracks.

The monster was loose.

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NRPG: The away team and the crew of the Anabelle's Lament are trapped in a sealed Neo-Essentialist genetic laboratory, and every single one of your nightmares is about to come to life. There is a lot of information in this post, and I took obvious liberties with the science, but hopefully you like it and are excited!

Some new writing rules:

- your Annabelle's Lament characters are *not* Protected. The grimdark is coming for them too, and the grimdark, like Bronski, is always hungry. Cassidy Rainner and Saul Conniston, however, *are* both Protected, safe enough for now, as they are in the control centre.

- your characters are trapped in a facility they know nothing about. They don't know the layout, the don't know the Anabelle's Lament crew is trapped too, and they sure as shit don't know about the hundreds of creatures loose and roaming the corridors. With communications with the ship down, how are they going to survive? Split up? Stay together? Kill everything that moves? Seek a peaceful resolution?

- Russ BaShen, Aerdan Jos, Eve Dalziel, and James Barton are all armed with a phaser and a tricorder each. Jake Crichton has a basic engineering kit instead of a tricorder, and is carrying a phaser. Sam Perry has a basic medical kit and a medical tricorder, but no phaser. Kassandra has a pulse rifle and one frag grenade, but no tricorder. All of them are wearing thermal clothes in which they will overheat while indoors, but freeze to death if not wearing while outdoors. Remember who has what if you decide to split up, and remember that there is only so much a normal person can carry.

- the genetic creatures that are loose are the results of Conniston's tinkering with the genetic codes of many animals from across many worlds. I kept this part as vague as possible in order to give *you* as much leeway as possible. Want to splice a sehlat with a skunk? He might have done that. How about a targ with a tiger? Maybe. And more besides, in multiple combinations. Use your imaginations!

- the abomination formerly known as Bronski is a monstrous creature that represents the very worst of what the Promethean project is capable of. He has lost his human mind, and only cares about killing eveything he can find, but he retains a highly vicious and atavistic predator's cunning. He's nowhere near your characters right now, though, being several levels below them, although he'll eventually sniff them out!

- you're free to use any Annabelle's Lament character, Conniston and Bronski in your posts as normal, subject to the outlines above. Try not to limit your posts to just your own character.

There is also one more important rule for you to observe:

- in order to keep a fast pace of action in this story, your posts must only cover a certain maximum length of time. That length of time is no more than 30 minutes in "game time". This time rule is called THE THIRTY MINIT LIMIT, and all away team players must follow it (my own posts are not subject to this rule, as I need to be free to write a post that may bring many story strands together over a longer period of time than 30 minutes in-game). Please observe the Thirty Minit Limit in your posts.

SHAWN: I told you that you might regret saying that ;)

JAMIE and JOY: Guys, I love you both, but I need to respectfully ask you to increase your participation in 2016. The more posts from you the better, obviously, but I think everyone will agree with me that a post a month minimum isn't too much to ask to keep the game going. If you're having problems within the community or with the writing or whatever, please tell me (or anyone) and I'll try to help if I can. I'm not trying to impose an ultimatum on you, but this issue has been going on for a long time now.

CHRIS: I'm taking you at your word that you're coming back to posting, and the rest of this story can be your comeback crucible. Thirty-Minit Limit posts are good to get back into the writing habit, as they don't have to be that long!

Finally, some of the thematic elements in this story made a previous appearance in Mary Shelley's famous novel 'Frankenstein'. I dropped some hints about that in previous posts:

- Elizabeth LAVENZA is the name of Victor Frankenstein's doomed fiance;
- Victor Frankenstein studied medicine at the University of InGOL(D)STADT;
- The novel itself has a subtitle of "The Modern PROMETHEus(AN)"

Ah well. I should have put more in, maybe.


Jerome McKee
the Soul of Captain Michael Turlogh Kane
Commanding Officer
USS PHOENIX


"He speaks an infinite deal of nothing!"
- Shakespeare's "The Merchant of Venice", Act 1, Scene 1.117

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