LtCol Wes Greaves – En Route

[Jacob Rittenhouse]

LtCol Wes Greaves – En Route

((Sickbay - Deck 05 - USS Octavia E. Butler))

The tension in Sickbay was still sharp enough to taste. Marines stood guard beside each restrained Dosi, rifles slung but ready, while the faint hum of medical equipment mixed with the hiss of sterilizers and the low voices of doctors.

 

With the mercenary’s last ditch attempt to take control defeated, it now finally seemed like they were willing to talk. They’d already learned that Dius was behind all of this. The poisoning of the mercenaries, the attacks on the planet, and now probably, the malicious advertisements that had taken over the comm system.  

 

Greaves: And what, he’s just gonna sneak aboard and into Sickbay?

 

Mercenary 2: Look, I don’t know. He poisoned us and held the antidote over our head until we could get him aboard this ship and build this medical bed thing. He wasn’t exactly specific on the details!

 

The merc’s tone wasn’t defiant, just weary, the edge of a man who’d already decided there was no way out. Wes’s brow furrowed.

 

Woolheater: Poisoned you.  OK.  So let’s start there.  Poisoned you with what?

 

Doctor Nis had already caught the word, her eyes narrowing in thought. Wes watched her razor sharp focus on her duty.

 

Nis: Responses

 

Mercenary 3: Response

 

Before Wes could press further, the doors to Sickbay hissed open. Every Marine in the room shifted, rifles half-raised, eyes trained on the entryway. Wes turned, pulse kicking up out of habit, only to exhale when he saw who it was.

 

Katsim Peri stood framed in the doorway, pushing a hover cart meant for cargo pallets. Relief hit him like a breath of clean air. He hadn’t realized until now just how much he’d been worried about her. The chaos aboard ship had a way of clouding thought, but seeing her safe cut through all of it.

 

On the cart lay another Dosi, this one richly tattooed, his skin pale and glistening with sweat. It took Wes only a heartbeat to piece it together, the mercenary captain, the one who’d been with the skipper in the cargo bay.

 

The room looked expectantly at Peri, who likewise looked back, clearly trying to piece together what was happening, or rather, what had just happened in Sickbay. Finally, she blinked and made a short explanation for her strange cargo.

 

Katsim: He collapsed.

 

Woolheater: Yes, ma’am. 

 

Sam moved without hesitation, and Sergeant Torvik joined him. Together they lifted the unconscious Dosi from the cart and onto an open biobed. The man’s breathing was shallow, labored, his pulse weak beneath the skin. Doctor Nis and her team were already in motion.

 

Nis: Responses

 

Watching the flurry of motion, Wes realized Peri must have come straight from the skipper. The last call he’d received had been from the captain herself, cut short by the Zet broadcast. If anyone knew what had happened next, it was Peri.

 

Greaves: Peri, the skipper must have been with you. We got a partial call from her. Any idea what’s going on?

 

Katsim: There was an unauthorized presence on the bridge.  

 

Wes’s jaw tightened. He knew that much already. His assumption was the Skipper probably had taken off to investigate herself.

 

The broadcast interference, the timing, the pattern, it was too deliberate to be coincidence. Someone had used the mercenaries as a distraction.

 

Nis: Response

 

Across the room, Wes saw Sam survey their perimeter with quiet precision. Almost intuitively, Wes went through a mental checklist of their situation as well. The north access was sealed, and the other entry watched by two Marines. Sickbay was as secure as it could get under the circumstances. Still, the situation in the brig weighed on him. Dozens of mercenaries, sick and scared, crowded in close quarters. A single spark down there could turn into a riot. Wes caught Sam’s eye, reading the same tension written across his face.

 

Peri’s voice brought Wes’s thoughts back to sickbay and the Skipper.

 

Katsim: If she called you, she wants you up there. 

He met her eyes, saw the same worry mirrored back at him, and felt the pull of duty settle like armor on his shoulders.

 

Woolheater: Colonel? What are your orders, sir?

 

Wes weighed it all in silence. Leaving meant pulling the ranking officer out of Sickbay and splitting their command presence even further. Staying meant ignoring a direct call from the captain while something, or someone, was loose on the bridge. It wasn’t a choice he liked, but it was one he understood.

 

He adjusted the strap on his rifle and reached for his gear, still coated in dirt and ash from Marohu. The weight of the armor was familiar, grounding.

Greaves: I’m heading up to the bridge. Sam, take charge of defense down here. We’re already stretched thin so I’ll try and rally a security team en route to the bridge. If I can’t find any, I’ll see what’s happening alone.

 

Their eyes met, unspoken understanding passing between them. Peri’s lingered a heartbeat longer, full of things neither of them could say out loud in a room full of people. He gave her a faint nod—nothing dramatic, just enough to promise he’d come back.

 

He turned, gave one last look across Sickbay, and saw order slowly reclaiming the chaos. Nis back in control. Woolheater steady at the line. The Marines alert but calm.

 

Without another word, Wes stepped through the doors and into the corridor beyond, the sound of Sickbay fading behind him as he moved toward whatever waited above.

 

 

((Corridor – En Route to the Bridge – USS Octavia E. Butler))

The corridors were quiet. The yellow glow of alert lighting painted the bulkheads in uneasy tones. Greaves moved fast, boots striking carpeted deck plate with a steady rhythm, rifle slung tight against his chest. Every junction he passed was empty. Whatever was happening on the ship, the crew had cleared out.

 

He reached the nearest turbolift and keyed the controls. The doors opened, the lights inside steady and white, but when he called for Deck One, the computer chirped a polite refusal.

 

Computer: Deck One restricted. Rerouting to Deck Two.

 

Greaves frowned. He tried again, overriding with his command code. The lift hesitated, then repeated the same message. It was a loop. Whoever was on the bridge had rerouted the turbolifts to trap anyone trying to reach them. That told him two things: the intruder knew what they were doing, and they wanted time.

 

With a grunt of frustration, he pried open the access panel beside the lift, revealing the crawlspace leading into the Jefferies Tubes. The scent of EPS conduits and recycled air filled the narrow space. With a flick of a switch the shoulder mounted lights on his vest clicked on and he started climbing. The rungs were cold beneath his hands, the climb slow and steep. The higher he went, the louder the pulse of the ship became, the distant vibrations of power conduits and life support systems thrumming through the metal. Sweat gathered along his collar despite the cool air, the confined space amplifying the sound of his own breathing.

 

 

((Conference Room, Deck One – USS Octavia E. Butler))

By the time he reached Deck One, his arms ached and his uniform was streaked with sweat from the climb, mixing into an uncomfortable grit with the dirt and ash from the planet. Deposited quietly into the conference room slightly aft of the bridge he took stock of the empty room. Forward, in the bridge itself, he hear voices, though Wes couldn’t make them out. Then the sound of a crash, and the unmistakable report of a phaser discharge.  Deftly, the Marine drew his phaser rifle from its sling, checked the charge, and steadied his breathing.

 

OOC:  I removed the Greaves tags from the sickbay scene for after he departed. Great scene guys! Enjoy solving the rest of the antidote puzzle!

 

 

 

=========================
Lieutenant Colonel Wes Greaves
Marine Detachment Commander
USS Octavia E. Butler NCC-82850
E239702WG0
=========================