LtCol Wes Greaves – Altercation

[Jacob Rittenhouse]

LtCol Wes Greaves – Altercation

 

(( Port Authority Complex, Port of Frisa, Argrathi V ))

 

 

Varik: The most plausible explanation is that this is not the Sweet Charlotte. Perhaps this...

 

A short, middle-aged Argrathi seemed to hurriedly walk across the platform, carrying in each hand a heavy duffle bag. They wore a thick hood and cloak but when a gust of wind breezed across the platforms, the hood fell back to reveal one Brelak Sonn.

 

Varik: (low) It's Sonn!

 

Wes’s eyebrows shot up and he immediately felt a slight surge of adrenaline as their prey came into sight. It wasn’t the set-up he’d envisioned to go and question the man, and by the way he was carrying heavy looking bags, Wes’s mind immediately went on the defensive.

 

Peters: Over there.

 

Wes shot a sideways glance toward the Lieutenant Commander to find him pointing toward a large storage container. It was a near perfect vantage point that would conceal them for the moment and the group hurriedly moved behind the cover.

 

Varik: (low) Look. He's talking to someone.

 

Wes strained his ears, but it was useless. They were still much too far to be able to overhear anything being said, especially with the sound of ships elsewhere in the port landing and taking off on occasion.

 

Instead the trio simply watched. As Brelak neared the freighter, the gangway began to lower. Before it met the deck, a figure stepped down from the ship and moved to intercept him, gesturing with the urgent, clipped movements of someone short on time.

 

Peters: (low) Hard to say what he’s doing from here, though.

 

Greaves: Let’s see what we can observe for now. Even if we can’t hear, we might be able to see something that’ll help us questioning him later.

 

As soon as he finished the sentence, Wes’s tricorder vibrated with an incoming text-based communication. He looked down and drew the device from his belt, flipping it open in a clean motion.

 

Away teams from runabout Sower. Be advised that Butler has left orbit and we are point of contact for support and supply. Requesting status updates.

 

At that Wes frowned. Not what he was expecting, but nothing that immediately was a problem. He debated for a second typing out a response, but the Marine instead opted to wait until whatever was happening with Sonn played out.

 

By the time Wes put the tricorder away and looked back up Sonn had dropped his bulky duffle bags and was now speaking with wild gestures to the other Argrathi.

 

Varik: (low) This appears less an exchange and more like an argument... or a negotiation.

 

Peters: (low) Negotiation for what?

 

Greaves: Whatever it is, Sonn looks desperate. Angry even.

 

Varik seemed to lean in a closer to the side of the cargo container, as if  to try and make out more of the conversation but Wes knew it was to no avail unless the Rekarian was hiding some hearing superpower.

 

Varik: (low) If I had to speculate, that is not a man reporting for duty. He is trying to get on that ship.

 

Wes was watching carefully as well and was starting to come to the same conclusions. It was now clear that the two men were arguing and shouting, though they were still too far away to make out any words.

 

Greaves: Could also be a purchase gone wrong. Arguing about price. Or timing. Or quantity. Or any number of things.

 

The Marine continued to watch intently, waiting for something meaningful to happen, but the two continued gesticulating passionately.

 

Peters: (low) If we attempt to get closer, we may spook him.

 

Greaves: Possibly. If something doesn’t develop soon though, it may be worth the risk. My hope is we can get something meaningful observing the exchange that we can use to grill Sonn with after this is over.

 

Varik: Response

 

Peters: (low) Understandable.

 

Varik: Response

 

Wes nodded once more. Without knowing precisely what this ship was, where it came from, or what it’s business was, there was no way to know for certain if it’s presence or activities were illicit.

 

Greaves: Let’s give it another minute. Then we’ll try and get closer.

 

Peters: (low) As you say, sir.

 

As they watched, Sonn threw his hands up in the air angrily and Wes immediately clocked it as a man running out of options. The frustration and anger in his stance was palpable. Whatever they were arguing about, Sonn was desperate about it, and the man from the ship wasn’t giving him what he wanted.

 

Varik: Response

 

Greaves: Alright, lets see if we can’t get cl---

 

He never finished the sentence. Instead, the sight of the argument froze Wes’s speech. The man from the freighter had been pushed backward hard enough to make him stumble and trip off the extended gangway. He landed hard, and for a second, didn’t immediately get back up.

 

Instead Sonn ran the few paces to where he’d dropped the pair of duffle bags, picked them up quickly by their handles, and started hurrying up the gangway.

 

Varik/Peters: Response

 

Greaves: No wait!

 

His words came out sharply to stop the other officers from moving. Wes had spotted what the others might have missed. The man from the freighter was on the ground moving, and a disruptor had appeared in his hand.

 

The moment hung precariously for a second. Still laying on his back, the man aimed the weapon at Sonn. He hadn’t heard a shout, but it was clear that Sonn knew he was in mortal danger as he’d frozen in place and was now looking over his shoulder at the man. Wes could see his mouth moving as Sonn said something.

 

Varik/Peters: Response

 

Greaves: Alright, move, quickly, but quietly!

 

Wes already had his phaser in hand, though drawing it had been instinct as soon as he’d seen the weapon. They were at least 100 meters away, and while it was a shot he’d made before with a hand phaser, it was a very difficult one. Very unreliable.

 

Instead, the trio broke out from behind the storage container, moving rapidly but not quite at a run while they hugged the outcroppings of equipment near the empty landing pads. In front of them, Sonn started to turn around and the freighter crewmen stood up.

 

75 meters.

 

60 meters.

 

45 meters.

 

They were closing the distance fast… and then it happened. Sonn spotted their movement and Wes saw his eyes move from the man with the weapon and pass over the three Starfleet Officers. Sonn’s eyes got wide and he immediately started to backpeddle up the ramp.

 

The freighter crewman, seeing Sonn’s gaze drift, half turned to look over his shoulder at them all. The moment  he recognized their uniforms was the moment he sprung into action. A bright lance of green energy shot from the disruptor and slammed into Sonn’s chest, dropping the man instantly. He fell first to the gangway, then assisted by gravity, half rolled.

 

His attacker wasted no time at all however, and leapt forward over Sonn’s crumpled body and sprinted up the ramp. It happened so fast Wes didn’t even have a chance to raise his own weapon before it was all over.

 

Greaves: Freeze.

 

The man didn’t even hesitate however and continued sprinting up the gangway toward the safety of the inside of the freightor.

 

Varik/Peters: Response

 

Whatever crew was inside the freighter was obviously alerted, and the engines whined to life, thrusters flashing with yellow and blue energy as the ship initiated an emergency takeoff. The gangway retracted as the ship lifted upwards, dropping Sonn’s body several meters to the ground as it pivoted in place in a hover before lurching forward toward the horizon.

 

[End Act 1 for Greaves]

 

 

 

 

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Lieutenant Colonel Wes Greaves

Commanding Officer

64th Marine Expeditionary Brigade

USS Octavia E. Butler NCC-82850

E239702WG0

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