Audible

Posted on Mar 15, 2016 @ 2:45am by Commander Jacob Crichton
Edited on on Mar 15, 2016 @ 2:45am

Mission: Promethean

= Audible =

(cont'd from "The Death of a Starfleet Officer")


LOCATION: The Annabelle’s Lament, above the surface of LAVENZA II

SCENE: Bridge

STARDATE: [2.16] 0414.2016

The deep, steady throb of pain was what roused him, pushing him back up into thin consciousness. He opened his one eye, but no image resolved; the world was a dull smear. Somewhere far away, sounds bristled up from a grey cloud of pain.

“Jugular!”

“Damn.”

“Mr. BaShen?”

Against his will, his mind began to order the sounds, force them into sensible configurations, layers of meaning. He knew he was aboard a ship, the Annabelle’s Lament. He knew it was *his* ship, the ship he’d arrived on. He knew his face hurt. He had a bad feeling that his jaw was broken.

“Getting us the hell out of here, sir.” More talk. Familiar. The Starfleet officer with his arm in the makeshift sling.

Crichton remembered now. He’d taken the knife, used it on the other Jake. The base had been shaking, tremors from the unstable reactor. The other Jake had grabbed the end of the power cable…

The explained the pain in his face. He risked opening his eye a little wider, and the world around him began to resolve. It was the bridge of the Lament. The smell of burnt flesh and phaser fire choked the air. Crichton lifted his head, saw a heap of ruined meat laying nearby. He thought he recognized the tattered remnants of Dr. Conniston’s clothing still clinging to bits of flesh. Crichton raised his head a little more, saw several of the Starfleet crew, their backs to him, standing over a tangle of bony limbs and claws… another monster, Crichton guessed. Nearby stood the short one, the marine with the big gun, but she wasn’t looking at him. Her attention was on something else.

Crichton followed her gaze. Turning his head the other way elicited a sharp jolt of pain, which radiated from the side of his face down his neck and into his shoulder. He did it anyway, his vision blurring again with the pain. When his sight cleared a little, Crichton could see his double, the other Jake, laying on the bulkhead. His eyes were closed, and his face pale. The Andorian officer was leaning over him, with an opened medkit close at hand. The Andorian had already cut away a portion of the other Jake’s uniform, but Crichton couldn’t see how bad the wound was.

Gradually, Crichton’s mind assembled these observations into a hypothetical timeline to explain how he’d gotten here. He and the other Jake had fought. The other Jake had apparently won, though Crichton remember plunging the knife into the meat of his double’s shoulder, and based on the way the other Jake looked now, Crichton guessed the wound was a bad one.

Presumably the other Jake had finished the link up with the lift control console after knocking Crichton out; that explained why he could feel the rumble of the Lament’s engines radiating upwards from the bulkhead beneath him. But for Crichton to be here, instead of back in the facility as the walls came crashing down around him… that meant the other Jake must have *carried* him back here. He’d done this after Crichton had tried to kill him. He’d done it with a severely wounded shoulder.

Reflexively, Crichton’s mind rejected this scenario. The other Jake had probably dropped unconscious after knocking Crichton out. One of his do-gooder Starfleet friends must have shown up, finished the link up, and gotten both of them back aboard. That was the only thing that made sense. Jake - that is, the *other* Jake - wouldn’t have saved Crichton’s life, not after Crichton had tried to murder him. He had too much to lose: a family, friends, a career. He wouldn’t risk it all saving his roughshod double.

**No,** Crichton thought. **You wouldn’t have saved him. That’s not the same thing.**

This line of thought wasn’t making his head feel any better, so Crichton abandoned it. He had bigger things to worry about just now, anyway. For example, he was more or less currently in the custody of Starfleet, and almost certainly bound for the brig once they got wherever they were going. Federation prisons were almost cushy compared to some of the places Crichton had stayed in his time, but that didn’t mean he was in a hurry to go back to one.

Seizing control of the Lament from a whole team of Starfleet officers wouldn’t be easy. Crichton rolled his eye from left, to right, looking for any sign of Brass or Evaer. He didn’t see the Bolian, but he saw Brass. He was seated against the wall nearby, his eyes fixed on something Crichton couldn’t see from where he lay. Crichton stared, willing Brass to notice him, but the Ferengi’s eyes never wavered.

Well. One possible ally, at least.

There was something else, Crichton realized. None of the Starfleet crew had noticed he was awake yet.

Awake, and *unbound*.

=[/\]=

Aerdan Jos finished waving the medical tricorder over the prone body of Jacob Crichton. He snapped it shut and turned back to the medical kit. The cut was deep, and ragged. Jake had collapsed before he could explain, but based on the condition his one-eyed double was in, it didn’t take much imagination to guess what had happened. The other Crichton had tried to kill Jake. Jake had fought back.

The wound was too severe to mend with what he had available. Aerdan could keep Jake from bleeding out, but they had to get him to the PHOENIX’s Sickbay immediately. Jos grabbed for a hypospray from the medkit and pressed it into Jake’s arm. Without looking up from his work, Aerdan spoke, his tone authoritative, final.

“Scan the surface for lifesigns,” he ordered. “Locate Lt. Barton and beam him aboard.”

“We’re getting a lot of interference,” Eve reported from the Lament’s undersized science station. “The facility is tearing itself apart; it’s throwing out a lot of unstable energy that’s getting in the way of the sensors.”

From where he had been sitting, only somewhat following the conversation, Thomas Varn suddenly looked up.

“Let me,” he said.

“Thomas, are you sure?” Eve asked. “You’ve been through a lot, you don’t need-”

“I can do it,” Varn said, stepping over to the station. He moved with such deliberate certainty that Eve almost felt she had to jump back from the console or risk being bowled over. Varn didn’t spare her a glance. He leaned over the console, spread his hands over the controls, and went to work. He hadn’t lost a step. His expression was no longer that far-away, haunted look… now, Varn was all business.

“Mr. Varn?” Jos asked, finally looking up from Jake to stare expectantly at the resurrected Varn.

“A moment,” Varn said, not looking back. His fingers flitted over the controls, and the console trilled appreciatively. Varn leaned back and looked to Aerdan, giving the Andorian a tight smile.

“I have him, sir,” Varn said. “Energizing.”

Aerdan stared back a half-second longer than felt comfortable, then nodded once. “Good work, Mr. Varn.”

The transporter system hummed to life, and the hunched figure of James Barton shimmered into existence before them. Barton was seated, hugging his legs tightly to his chest. He was coated with snow, which clung to his hair and beard in thick white clumps. His lips had gone blue, and he was shaking violently.

“Barton!” Eve cried, rushing to the big man’s side. She quickly removed her thermal jacket and wrapped it over Barton’s shoulders.

From beneath the layers of ice and snow, she heard a low, stuttering rumble.

“F-f-f-...” Barton said.

“Fine?” Eve asked, trying to finish the thought for him. “You’re fine?”

“F-f-*freezing,” Barton finally managed.

“That’s everyone,” Aerdan said, finally leaning back from Jake and getting to his feet. He’d done all he could do… the rest would require sickbay. “Mr. BaShen, take us out of the atmosphere. As soon as we are clear of the interference, get a message to the PHOENIX.”

Russ throttled up, and the Annabelle’s Lament began to climb.

The look of focus had left Thomas Varn’s face. Once again he had that haunted look, like a lost child. He was still standing by the Science station, hands at his sides, as if he wasn’t sure what to do with himself next. Eve was the first to notice. She made sure the thermal was tightly wrapped around Barton, then stood up and approached Varn.

“Thomas,” Eve asked. “Are you alright?”

“I don’t…” Thomas said, the sentence trailing off.

“We’re clear of the interference,” Russ reported. “Opening a channel.”

Jos stood before the Lament’s CO’s chair and spoke into the ship’s main viewscreen.

“Jos to PHOENIX, are you receiving us?”

The view on the screen suddenly switched, displaying the familiar sight of the PHOENIX bridge. It had only been a few hours since Aerdan had last seen it, but setting eyes on it again, even remotely, was very reassuring.

At the center of the bridge was Captain Michael Kane.

{{Commander,}} Kane said, one of his eyebrows raised. {{You’ve commandeered the enemy’s vessel, I see.}}

“Yes sir,” Aerdan said. “We had to call an audible, sir.”

{{You didn’t destroy the Lena, did you?}}

“Captain, Commander Crichton has sustained serious injuries. We need a surgical bay prepped and standing by. Also, Lt. Barton will need immediate treatment for hypothermia and possibly frostbite. The rest of the crew, as well as our prisoners, have assorted injuries as well.”

{{Understood,}} Kane said, all business once more. {{When you are clear of the atmosphere, we can beam you aboard. We’ll have Sickbay standing by.}}

“Aye sir,” Aerdan said. “Captain… there were casualties.”

At the other end of the transmission, Michael Kane stared back. His expression changed so little that Aerdan barely noticed it, wasn’t totally sure he was fooling himself into thinking it was there. For one moment, Kane’s eyes seemed to soften, his lip seemed on the verge of trembling. Then that fierce control reasserted itself, and Kane’s expression was the stony mask it always was, unchanging, immutable.

{{Our crew?}}

“Ensign Perry,” Aerdan said.

Kane’s gaze dropped. He gave a somber nod.

{{Understood,}} he said, looking back up at them. {{Anything else?}}

Aerdan cut his gaze over to where Thomas Varn was standing. He didn’t think Kane could see Varn on his end, the angle wasn’t right. For a moment, Aerdan weighed whether or not he should broach this subject now. He wasn’t sure how Kane would react. The story of how Thomas Varn had come to be standing here with them was too long to get into now, and Aerdan wasn’t sure if it would make Kane welcome Varn back or toss him into a brig.

{{Commander?}}

“Yes sir,” Aerdan said, turning to look back at Kane. “There is, sir, but I think we had better discuss it in person.”

{{Very well,}} Kane nodded. {{We’re waiting for your hail, Commander Jos. PHOENIX out.}}

The viewscreen image winked out, and was replaced by the swirling clouds of LAVENZA II. Aerdan eased into the CO’s chair of the Annabelle’s Lament.

“You know the way, Mr. BaShen,” he said.

The ship began to accelerate.

“Excuse me,” the Ferengi said. Kass turned to glare at him.

“What?” Kass demanded roughly.

“What’s going to happen to me?” Brass asked.

“We ain’t gonna throw you a party, if that’s what yer thinkin’,” Kass sneered.

“My uncle is very rich, you see,” Brass said, giving her an oily smile full of pointed teeth. “He could make you very rich too. All of you.”

“Barkin’ up the wrong tree, lobes,” Kass said, leveling the rifle at him. “Replicator credits. One of the benefits of living in an enlightened peaceful utopia. Now quit yappin’ or peaceful utopia’s gonna smear you across the deck.”

By the science station, Varn had started to shake.

“Thomas?” Eve said again. “What is it?”

“No,” Varn said. “This isn’t right, I’m not right, this isn’t me…”

Varn reached up and began to claw at his face. Horrified, Eve stepped forward, grabbing Varn’s wrists before he could do any damage. Varn reacted to her touch like it was acid; he howled, and yanked so violently away from her that Eve was pulled off balance. She fell forward, into Varn. Varn seized her suddenly, flipping her up and over him to crash into the science console behind them. Eve rolled off and hit the floor with a thud.

“Lieutenant!” Aerdan shouted.

“Don’t *touch* me!” Varn roared, standing over Eve’s prone body.

Kass was already moving. In one fluid motion, she’d slung her rifle back over her shoulder so it was out of the way as she charged across the bridge towards Varn. Aerdan was already shouting at her to stand down, not wanting this situation to escalate any further, but it was too late. Varn whipped around fast, much faster than Kass had expected. The collided in a rough grapple, but Varn had size and surprising, almost inhuman strength. He pulled himself free of her grasp and whipped a savage backhand across her chin, sending her sprawling to the deck. Not missing a beat, Kass scissored her legs out, kicking Varn’s out from under him. She leapt, hoping to lock him in a submission hold and subdue him, but one of Varn’s wings snapped out, hitting her as hard as a fist and sending her sprawling.

“It’s not me I’m not me I’m not-” Varn was shouting over, and over. Kass had pulled the rifle back around, hoping to use it like a club. Varn seized it from her grasp, yanking it away so hard that it took one of Kass’ fingernails along with it. Varn threw the rifle aside, not sparing it a second glance.

“What the hell’s going on?” Russ BaShen was shouting, twisted awkwardly around in his chair at the FCO station. He kept having to turn back to look at his console, adjust a setting, and then turn back to try and follow the action going on behind him. Doing all this with only one arm was making things extra difficult.

Varn swept his wing at her again. Kass ducked under it and tackled him about the waist. She tried to pull him to the ground, but she only succeeded in pushing him back a half-step. Varn was still screaming.

A huge shape suddenly loomed up behind Varn, and two burly arms snaked out, coiling themselves around one of Varn’s arms and throat. Barton, still coated with snow, hoisted Varn up, lifting him off the ground to remove his leverage, and tightened his grip. Varn fought back, harder than Barton expected… the winged man’s violently kicking and thrashing threatened to break Barton’s grip. But then Kass was there, her fist cocked back. She threw a savage haymaker into Varn’s jaw. It connected with a sharp crack, and Varn was still, his head hanging limp.

Barton held him a moment longer, to make sure he was really out. Then, without releasing his grip on the winged man, he looked through a tumble of snow-coated black hair at Kassandra Thytos.

“What the hell is this?” Barton asked, his voice still a little weak from his time in the cold.

Kass shook her first. She thought she felt a knuckle or two break when she’d landed the blow. She returned Barton’s look with an annoyed expression.

“Your eye don’t lie,” Kass said. “It’s Varn.”

“No it isn’t,” Barton said. But he released his grip. Varn slid bonelessly to the floor. Kass crouched to check on Eve. Her eyes were closed, but she moaned softly, and Kass could see the rise and fall of her chest.

“Major?” Aerdan asked.

“Knocked her loopy,” Kass said. “But she should be alright.”

Suddenly, a high-pitched whine cut through the bridge. Kass and Barton recognized it immediately. Kass whirled, a curse on her lips as she realized she’d lost track of the pulse rifle. Immediately, her eyes locked on the one-eyed Crichton clone. He was standing, blood sticky and drying down the side of his head. He was grinning triumphantly as he leveled the pulse rifle towards them. The high-pitched whine emanated from the gun, indicating he’d set the round to overcharge.

“You know what this sound means,” the Crichton cloned said, fixing Kass with his one pale blue eye.

“Gun’s set to overload,” Kass said, scowling at him.

“Tell your friends what that means,” the Crichton clone ordered.

Kass didn’t like being ordered around, but she swallowed her pride and turned to Aerdan. “He pulls that trigger, he’ll probably blow the front of the ship off.”

“Hell of a way to end the day, don’t you think?” Crichton asked.

“Crichton!” Brass said, his eyes wide. “What are you doing?”

“Hi Brass,” Crichton said, not looking over at the Ferengi. “Where’s Evaer?”

“Dead,” Brass said. “You had better not blow up my ship, hu-mahn.”

“Depends on our guests,” Crichton said. “Here’s what’s going to happen. I want all of you standing over by my better half there.”

For a moment, no one moved. The one-eyed Crichton frowned.

“Now!” he shouted.

Aerdan shifted his eyes from Crichton, to Kass and Barton, then to the unconscious forms of Jake, Varn, and Eve. They could try to rush the mirror-Jake, they might manage to get the gun away from him in time… but Aerdan couldn’t risk it. Too many had given too much on this mission already.

“Stand down,” Jos said. “Do as he says.”

“Commander,” Kass protested.

“That’s an order, Major,” Jos repeated. Kass frowned, but complied. She hooked her arms underneath Eve to move her as well. Behind her, Barton picked Varn up in a fireman’s carry. They all moved to stand near where Jake Crichton lay, still unconscious.

“Pilot,” Crichton ordered. “You too.”

Brass had gone over to the FCO station where Russ BaShen was sitting. Russ had his one hand raised, but Brass wasn’t interested. He stepped forward, roughly seized BaShen by the back of his uniform, and tossed him out of the chair.

“That is *my* seat, hu-mahn!” The Ferengi barked.

BaShen glared daggers at Brass, but he got to his feet and stumbled over to where the rest of the crew was standing. Crichton, keeping his finger curled just over the pulse rifle’s trigger, stepped over to the science console.

“You can’t hope to escape,” Jos said cooly. “The PHOENIX is waiting up there for us to emerge from the atmosphere. As soon as you enter low orbit, our ship will-”

“I ain’t afraid of your spaceship,” Crichton cut him off.

Jos saw that the one-eyed Crichton meant it. “Very well,” the Andorian said. “What will you do now?”

“Kill them, hu-mahn!” Brass called from his position at the FCO station. “They’ll only get in the way.”

“Commander Crichton saved your life,” Jos said, gesturing to where Jake Crichton lay at his feet. “You would repay that by murdering him and his crewmates?”

Crichton considered this with a frown. His one eye drifted to stare at his unconscious double on the floor at Aerdan Jos’ feet. From the FCO station, Brass called once more for Crichton to simply kill them all and be done with it.

“Do me a favor, bughead,” Crichton said, looking back up at Aerdan. “If he wakes up, tell him we’re even.”

Jos looked confused, like he was about to reply, but Crichton was already turning away. He reached down, activated the transporter, reversing the coordinates of the last transport. The assembled crew of the PHOENIX, in their varying states of consciousness, were enveloped in the shimmering blue of the transporter field, and a moment later they had disappeared.

“You should have killed them,” Brass said, sounding disappointed.

“Yeah,” Crichton said. He raised the rifle, released the charge and canceled the overload. The high whine faded. Then he looked at Brass. “Their ship is still out there, you know.”

“Do I look worried?” Brass said, turning back to give him one of his goblin-like grins. Then Brass looked back at the FCO console, activated a command. The Lament throttled up,

=[/\]=

LOCATION: LAVENZA II

SCENE: Surface, near the LENA

The away team materialized in a flurry of snow and ice. The wind whipped so loudly that the crew could barely hear Jos’ shouted commands. Barton’s eyes fixed on the heap that had once been the creature Bronski, now mostly buried under a pile of snow.

“I know where we are!” Barton called. Jos heard him, nodded, and gestured for Barton to lead the way. Still carrying Varn on his shoulders, Barton started off in the direction of their shuttlecraft, the Lena. The crew followed, with Aerdan and Russ carrying Jake and Kass carrying Eve. The Lena too was covered in snow, so much that they almost missed it. Barton stepped forward to activate the ramp control, half-expecting it to ignore his command. It didn’t; the ramp yawned open before them, and the crew stumbled aboard, out of the wind, the cold, and the choking atmosphere.

Kass triggered the control the close the ramp behind them, and gingerly set Eve down. She started for the cockpit to activate the Lena’s engines, with Russ BaShen coming up behind her.

“She better work,” Kass said ominously.

“Don’t worry,” Russ said, though he sounded worried himself.

Fortunately, their bad luck seemed to have run its course. The ship powered up, humming casually, caring not at all for the horrors its crew had endured while it had sat idle here on the surface. Russ didn’t mind; he activated flight control, and a moment later the ship was cutting its way through the clouds, up and up and into space.

Jos came up behind the pilot station.

“Well done, Mr. BaShen,” the Andorian said, resting a hand on Russ’s uninjured shoulder. “Hail the PHOENIX.”

“What should I tell them?” Russ asked, glancing back at Aerdan.

Aerdan Jos stared into the distance for a moment, then looked back at Russ.


“Tell him we had to call another audible,” Jos said.

=[/\]=

NRPG: The PHOENIX crew is together, aboard the Lena, and headed back to the PHOENIX. Meanwhile, Brass and mirror-Jake have run off with the Annabelle’s Lament - consider them in the wind for now, but of course the galaxy is never quite as big as it seems, is it? ;-)

We can consider “Promethean” to be officially wrapped up, but that doesn’t mean you’re off the hook for posting. We have various injuries - Jake’s stab wound, Russ’s wounded arm, Eve’s knock on the head, Barton’s exposure - that will need seeing to. And that’s to say nothing of the psychological scars: our crew was almost ripped apart by monsters, and we watched a crewmate, Sam Perry, get killed by the Promethean Device. That will have had an effect on everyone, I’m sure, so explore it!

Also, we have a resurrected Thomas Varn. What is he, really? Is he a copy? Is he Varn reborn? And what was the deal with his ‘episode’ on the Lament’s bridge? Is it part of the legacy of the Promethean Device, or just a natural reaction to extreme stress and trauma? And how do your characters feel around this new Varn?

And finally… we’re headed back to EARTH to put these Neo-Essentialists to bed once and for all. This is the culmination over months and months for our characters. Every hardship they’ve endured, every enemy they’ve faced and challenge they’ve overcome, has all been building to this final showdown. With the end in sight, what’s going through your character’s mind?

Thanks to Jerome for letting me wrap things up, and good job on a good mission, everyone! Fortress Earth awaits!

Shawn Putnam

A.k.a.

Jake Crichton

Chief Engineering Officer

USS PHOENIX

And, signing off for now…

Jake Crichton

Chief Engineering Officer

The Annabelle’s Lament