1stLt Samuel Woolheater - Ride the Wave
Radamio
(( Beyond the Gates, Approx. 30 kilometers beyond the Garasi District, Argratha Capital City, Argrathi V))
There was no movement and yet, Sam sensed a trap. The tricorder was picking up no life signs except the team. He even verified the coordinates with the latest telemetry from the Sower.
No heat blooms beyond their own. No perimeter security. That
alone was wrong.
Smugglers didn’t leave infrastructure exposed.
And certainly not like this. His tricorder pulsed quietly in his hand as
he angled it across the masts, the low structure, the surrounding ground.
Power was here. Being generated on site by an old hauler. Probably stolen and not missed. Heavy and Industrial grade in its day. Now, gathering dust in the hot sun and dry conditions.
Lahl: Well, this is certainly something.
Ke/T’Korva: Response?
Woolheater: (softly) Something’s not right. ::beat:: These power signatures are enough to drive industrial cargo transporters… but I don’t see any pads.
The whine of the transporter was unmistakable
Lahl: Do you hear that though? Something sounds like a transporter beam of some kind. No?
Ke/T’Korva: Response?
Woolheater: Energy patterns could be faked. Staged you know? Just set up an emitter. If this is buried, we’ll only confirm it by getting closer. It’s possible that they buried their operation inside the ground to avoid satellite imagery.
Lahl: That’s probably the most likely explanation, I think.
Samuel wasn’t so sure. He looked at the three antenna masts and wondered why they were there. Why antenna masts in the desert. And why did everything look…decrepit.
Ke/T’Korva: Response?
The final stretch to the building in the center of the triangulated masts closed under their boots, the sand giving way to harder, wind-scoured ground as the structure grew from silhouette into shape. Woolheater slowed the team with a subtle hand signal.
Lahl: So…Ke, do you know anything about this area?
Woolheater: Lifesigns. No lifesigns. Could be cloaked body armor. But out here in the heat and the dust and the dirt? Nah. We’d see some distortion or heat waves.
Ke/T’Korva: Response?
The idea of an old listening post did make sense to Sam. That would explain the antennas at least. And the remoteness of the location.
Lahl: So…what’s our plan when we get there? We should probably have a plan, no?
Woolheater: ::consulting the tricorder:: There’s just one entrance here. That…narrows down…the options some.
Ke/T’Korva/: Response?
Sam saw that Kimonzi nodded.
Lahl: At the very least, we should have the concepts of a plan.
Woolheater: Copy that.
Ke/T’Korva: Response?
(( Decommissioned Subspace Navigational Array #DDV261 ))
The entrance offered no resistance. No lockout. No attempt at concealment. Just a worn threshold and air that felt…unused. The room was large, dirty and old. It was dug deeper into the plateau top. Old navigational computers, relays and long-term batteries, dead and dusty, lined the walls. Disarray and debris were everywhere. It looked like it had been cleaned out in a hurry. Inside, Woolheater took point without a word. Clear left. Clear right. Corners checked. Sight lines confirmed. His weapon steady and controlled.
Woolheater: Clear!
Ke/Lahl/T’Korva: Response?
Dust where there should have been traffic. Equipment where there should have
been operators.
The place wasn’t just empty. It had been left. That is…everything except a much newer looking six-person cargo combo transporter pad.
Woolheater: Whatever was here, we missed it.
Ke/Lahl/T’Korva: Response?
The transporter assembly sat at the center like the only
thing that still mattered. The transporter cycled again. This time an oversized
envelope… and an Argrathi medical pad. The envelope was marked in bold script: OPEN ME
Nobody touched it.
The pad activated on its own. It was
video footage. An Argrathi citizen attacking 1st Lieutenant JoNz in
a medical ward.
Ke/Lahl/T’Korva: Response?
Opening the letter and removing a printed note that read, I SEE YOU
Sam was pissed. He exhaled once through his nose.
Woolheater: Damn. This isn’t a distro site. It’s a tripwire. To get whoever was getting too close to reveal ourselves. ::a beat.:: It’s bait. And we walked right into it.
His eyes moved across the room again, confirming what they already knew.
Woolheater: No personnel. No staging. No handling infrastructure.
Another cycle of the transporter. It looked to Sam like an emitter… pushing out a signal profile. A decoy. Steady and patient these smugglers were. Waiting and careful and smart.
Ke/Lahl/T’Korva: Response?
Woolheater: They built this to be found… but not to be used. ::His gaze returned to the transporter. Then, quieter:: But they didn’t break the line.
Ke/Lahl/T’Korva: Response?
Samuel stood, turning just enough to bring T’Korva into view without breaking his awareness of the room. And he got an idea.
Woolheater: If that pattern’s stable, it could still be connected to the source. To them…whoever’s doing this. :: A small beat…measured. He cocked his head:: We could try to ride it back to its origin.
Ke/Lahl/T’Korva: Response?
--
1stLt Samuel Woolheater, SFMC
Sniper / Infantry Officer
2nd Platoon, Precision Fires & Recon
USS Octavia E. Butler (NCC-82850)
O240111SW4