1stLt Samuel Woolheater - What Doth Silence Betoken
Radamio
(( Admin / Research Annex – Supply Arsenal - Central Clinic – Argrathi Capital ))
Its not often that you find a cache of weapons stored in the Administrative section of a hospital. Even stranger to find such tools near a Research Annex in a place that is supposed to be “abandoned”. But, on Argratha they did things differently. While Commander T’Korva put together the pieces of this puzzle and Lieutenant Lahl worked another miracle to get some sort of communications up, Sam was busy inventorying the arms locker and other goodies stowed away. Yes they were old, had at most a half-charge, maybe wouldn’t fire or maybe blow up in their faces. But time was running out.
And no one saw the blue-white light of a transporter beam or heard the all too familiar whine of a materialization sequence as a group beamed into the complex not too far away from the Away Team…
Woolheater: These are old. Coupl'a years is my guess? Half-charged. Sir? Could be old Dominion War surplus? Somebody staged these here. Somebody might be coming back.
Her ears perked up. Something like that was also weird. She needed no more weird.
Lahl: Dominion War surplus? What did you find?
Suddenly, the comm crackled to life if only for a moment before being abruptly silenced again.
Other Ground Team: ::speaker squelch:: ##..Arg..thi..urity…her..are y # ! u? Looooooo…tio…n..#$% ##
T’Korva: Thank Kahless! =/\= This is Lieutenant Commander T’Korva, we may have found the smuggler’s hide out. We require reinforc… =/\=
The phaser blast punched into the wall where T’Korva had been standing a fraction of a second earlier. Sparks and powdered composite sprayed across the cramped locker room as the smell of burned circuitry flooded the air.
Woolheater moved immediately. Not toward the doorway. Toward Lahl. One hand hit the back of her shoulder hard enough to drive the point home as another burst tore across the room over their heads.
Woolheater: Down.
Commander T’Korva didn’t need such intervention and she hit the deck, snatched one of the old rifles from the crate and rammed a power cell home in one sharp motion. T’Korva rose just enough to return fire. Sam caught the rifle just long enough to shove the muzzle upward a fraction as the weapon discharged harmlessly into the ceiling.
Woolheater: Hold! Who are we shooting at?
The word came sharp but not insubordinate. Immediate and controlled. Another impact slammed into the outside corridor. It was not random. The shots were measured and suppressive. Sam recognized that these people were trained.
Sam dropped beside the doorway, eyes narrowing toward the drifting smoke beyond it.
Woolheater: :: to T’Korva:: Commander, we don’t have PID yet!
Her look back at him said it all.
Woolheater: Positive Identification sir!
Another shot cracked through the doorway. Lower this time. Again, it was controlled. It was deliberate. The shots were not random fire. And they were precise. The shots were meant to pin them down. Sam dropped to a knee behind cover, one hand steadying himself against the deck while his eyes tracked the doorway instead of the rifles. The old Starfleet weapons were still scattered across the floor where they’d pulled them from the crate. Half-charged power cells. Dominion War surplus by the look of them. Whoever was out there had opened fire the moment communications went through. Not before.
oO They don't want us talking. Oo
Lahl reached for one of the rifles. He slid the rifle to her with his foot. She needed to be armed.
Woolheater: Hold. We don’t know who the hell’s out there yet. Ragers don’t use phaser rifles. And those are Argrathi phaser bolts.
Another phaser blast slammed into the doorframe. That was close and confirmed suppressive. Measured enough that Sam immediately disliked it. This wasn’t somebody spraying blindly into a room. Whoever was outside knew exactly where to aim. Sam risked a quick glance past the doorway. Nothing except flickering corridor lights and drifting smoke from the impact scorches.
No advancing footsteps. No push into the room. Just pressure. Keeping them fixed in place. He clocked multiple shadows.
Woolheater: ::to T’Korva:: That somebody I mentioned? Looks like they’re back. Multiple hostiles incoming. I’ve got five so far.
He looked back toward the narrow access corridor leading deeper down the corridors and into the Research portion of the annex. The corridors were dark, but they had power. And they looked used. And unlike the locker room, not a coffin.
Woolheater: Commander. Recommend we move. This room’s dead space if they decide to press us.
Another phaser blast cracked against the outer doorway as if to reinforce the point. Sam didn’t wait for the next shot to land inside the room.
Keeping low, he grabbed one of the old rifles by its carry strap and moved toward the darkened corridor leading deeper into the annex, pausing only long enough to make sure the others were behind him before pushing forward into the gloom. The narrow hallway swallowed them in darkness broken only by intermittent emergency lighting and the cold green pulse of standby indicators still running on auxiliary power.
A phaser blast cracked against the corridor wall behind them as the team pulled back into the annex. Not aimed to kill. A second impact stitched sparks across the deck near the intersection they had just abandoned. Whoever was after them was determined not to identify themselves. Sam could tell by the phaser blasts that they had controlled spacing. He thought he caught sight of an Argrathi Security badge on a uniform.
If this was the Argrathi, they must know that they were not Ragers. Further, the away team retreated into the labs. The aggressors had controlled spacing. And they were using controlled pressure. Whoever was behind them wasn’t trying to storm the room. They were advancing carefully. Driving them deeper.
oO They're herding us. Oo
The realization settled heavily in Sam’s mind as they pushed deeper into the annex. The corridor widened into a fully functioning research space. Operational and not abandoned.
Woolheater: Sir… this place is active.
The room beyond looked less like a forgotten hospital annex and more like somebody had simply walked away in the middle of a shift. Low power monitors still glowed faintly along one wall.
Sam moved past an overturned cart and stopped briefly beside one of the active displays. He saw cargo manifests that flickered across the screen too quickly to fully read, mixed with transporter cycle logs and what looked disturbingly like planetary population density maps overlaid with expanding red containment zones.
Not a hospital. Not anymore. Another phaser impact cracked against the corridor entrance behind them. Still suppressive. Still controlled. Still no attempt to rush them.
Woolheater: Commander, they’re driving us somewhere.
The deeper they moved, the more wrong the annex felt. The cleaner it got, the more controlled it got. Power. Ventilation. Recently opened doors. A half-finished ration pack sitting beside a terminal. A cup of something still steaming. Someone was living down here.
Ahead, the corridor narrowed again before opening into another section of the complex. Light spilled faintly across the deck from somewhere around the bend accompanied by low voices distorted beyond recognition. Sam immediately dropped into a crouch and raised his hand.
Stop.
The team froze.
A shape moved briefly across the light ahead. Then another.
Argrathi Security Forces by the look of them. Sam recognized them…from the desert! The backup security, the impossible “reserves” that just happened to be on standby. The security guards that arrived on the land transport.
One of them shoved someone forward hard enough that the figure stumbled against the wall. Sam’s stomach dropped. Engineering gray. Blood on her sleeve. Her hands bound behind her back.
Woolheater: Commander… hold fire.
The words came quieter this time. Sharper. More dangerous. The figure lifted her head weakly under the harsh overhead light. She had been beaten. Badly.
Ke’Partha.
And suddenly the suppressive fire made perfect sense.
Woolheater: ::low:: They’ve got Ke’Partha.
[[ End Act II for Woolheater ]]
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1stLt Samuel Woolheater, SFMC
Sniper / Infantry Officer
2nd Platoon, Precision Fires & Recon
USS Octavia E. Butler (NCC-82850)
O240111SW4