Lieutenant JG Roy Bancroft - Starfleet must have to issue crate upon crate of replacement phasers to the Artemis each time it returns from a mission
Carter Schimpff
(( Short Walk Later – Exterior Afalqi Project Complex – Meranuge IV ))
A flicker of movement broke the stillness just beyond one of the storage tanks – precisely where their tricorders had been directing them.
Bancroft: ::softly:: Eyes up.
Tarsan: It’s not Da’al, I’d be able to sense them…
Munro: Not necessarily, the Da'al have their own inherent psionic abilities, and we don't know the extent of that. When the Artemis assisted with the asteroid strike the Da'al and the telepathic crew were all equally affected by the Da’allium. It made them go insane.
They passed through the open gate with the kind of caution that suggested experience rather than fear, and the source of the movement resolved itself with unpleasant clarity.
An automated phaser turret. Free-standing.
Ah. Naturally.
It rotated toward them with mechanical certainty the moment it registered their presence.
Tarsan: Is that… a turret? Get down!
Munro: Take cover!
Bancroft: Moving!
Munro and Tarsan moved first, dropping behind a cluster of crates as the turret came alive with a sharp burst of phaser fire. Roy broke the other direction, covering the distance to a low concrete wall in a few long strides before diving in behind it, the rough edge biting into his forearms as he landed.
Tarsan: Someone really doesn’t want us to find out what’s going on here!
Munro: We must be onto something!
Bancroft: I don’t imagine that thing is set to ‘stun!’ Gavrin – any chance you can get an angle on it?
Tarsan: I can’t get a shot, maybe I can distract it somehow?
Munro: That's a good idea. It can only fire at one target at a time.
A memory – uninvited and profoundly disturbing – surfaced at once.
…Those of you who have been around for any length of time know that I’m no fan of officers who needlessly throw themselves into dangerous situations…
Fleet Captain Addison MacKenzie, in all her infinite and inconvenient wisdom.
Bancroft: Let’s make it a thoughtful distraction! Ideally one that doesn’t involve any of us getting ventilated.
Tarsan: Response
Munro: Can you overload your phaser? Roy and I will draw it's fire and you make sure you take it out with your phaser, Tarsan?
Roy felt a quick, irrepressible grin tug at the corner of his mouth. It was a good plan – and it came with the added satisfaction of being exactly the sort of thing Natasha would be furious to have missed. Overloading a phaser and blowing something up? He’d be lording this over her for weeks.
Provided he survived to do so.
Bancroft: On your mark, Commander!
Tarsan: Response
Munro: Ready!
Munro fired first.
The turret snapped toward her, tracking the new threat with brutal efficiency. Roy was already moving, rising just enough to bring his phaser up and into line. He didn’t fire immediately – timing mattered here – and waited until the instant Munro dropped out of its line of sight before squeezing the trigger and pulling its attention cleanly off her.
From the corner of his vision – both eyes open, just as he’d been taught – he caught movement.
Da’al security officers. Closing in, drawn by the noise, curiosity overriding caution.
One of them didn’t move fast enough.
The phaser bolt struck her squarely in the chest. She went down hard, her body folding in on itself before hitting the ground.
Bancroft: ::to the Da’al:: Get her to cover and get pressure on that wound! I’m a doctor – but I can’t help her until that turret is down!
His focus never left the target. The phaser in his hand continued its steady, controlled cadence as the turret recalculated priorities and began to traverse back toward him.
Bancroft: ::to Munro:: Taking cover!
Tarsan/Munro: Response
Roy dropped back behind the wall and, for a moment – no more than that – he allowed himself a glance toward the fallen Da’al.
It didn’t look good.
Their species’ natural gray made it difficult to read at a glance, but something in the slackness of her posture, the way her limbs had settled, suggested more than a superficial hit.
Worse, the response around her was… highly inadequate.
One officer had both hands pressed directly against the wound – bare, unfocused pressure – while another crouched nearby, speaking rapidly into a communicator without looking up.
Bancroft: ::to the Da’al:: Tear a strip from your uniform – apply pressure properly! Hands alone won’t cut it! Elevate her legs – she’s at risk of going into shock! ::to Tarsan:: Gavrin, this would be an excellent moment to justify that engineering degree – we’re on a clock!
Tarsan/Munro: Response
The turret fell silent – briefly, but tellingly.
Roy leaned just far enough to confirm what he already suspected: it had reacquired Munro as the more immediate threat, its barrel grinding back in her direction.
Bancroft: My turn again, Commander!
He rose into a crouch and resumed fire, attempting to draw its attention back to him once more.
Tarsan/Munro: Response
TAG/TBC!
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Lieutenant JG Roy Bancroft
Assistant Chief Medical Officer
USS Artemis-A
A240205RB1