Vice Admiral Quinn Reynolds - The Place of Blood and Wrath
Quinn Reynolds
((Cockpit, USS Kahnrah — Time Index: Early 2367))
Quinn had expected the past to feel different. She wasn’t sure why, exactly—it was hardly her first temporal rodeo. As dire as the stakes had been on those occasions, nothing quite measured up to ensuring the Borg didn’t conquer the entire galaxy, and she’d expected to feel it. But looking out through the wide windows of a runabout cockpit, the stars looked the same as they ever did. Civilisations continued on in the orbits of those burning points of light, blissfully unaware of how close disaster loomed to them all.
Dwelling on said disaster was no help to anyone, however. Action was required, and her crew were the ones to do it. The navigation console at the front of the cockpit chirped quietly, sensors showing only a single contact in the vast black of space. Their destination, a tiny point in the impossible vastness between the stars, almost invisible unless you
Reynolds: =/\= Reynolds to Neathler. How’s the weather?=/\=
Neathler / zh’Tisav / Pace: =/\= Response =/\=
The Nassau survivors had told them about Johnson’s camp. They’d found it on a plain little planet located in an unremarkable solar system. A quiet little place of little interest to anyone, except for the last survivors of a Borg apocalypse, looking for scraps wherever they could find them. Since the Gorkon and her crew were now in 2367, that camp probably didn’t exist yet—but they had good reason to believe Johnson was already there.
Reynolds: =/\= It’s unlikely that Johnson’s camp is where the Nassau survivors found it—he may not have set it up yet—but our science department tracked one set of chronometric particles to the same planet. He’s there, somewhere..=/\=
Neathler / zh’Tisav / Pace: =/\= Response =/\=
Reynolds: =/\= Well, I don’t think you’re going to get a precise location given how degraded the trail was, and there’s a good chance Johnson will see you coming given the tech he stole. It’s going to be a challenge, but that’s what we’re good at. =/\=
Neathler / zh’Tisav / Pace: =/\= Response =/\=
Reynolds: =/\= Happy hunting. =/\=
Her skinny fingers closed out the channel with a tap. For a few moments she indulged her own imagination, and wondered what kind of man Neathler’s team was going to find. For all the time they’d spent chasing him, for all the information they’d discovered about the when, what, and how... they still didn’t know the why. What drove a man to such extreme actions? It would seem they would soon find out, one way or another.
She turned her attention to the comms panel again, opening up a new channel with the mindless flick of muscle memory.
Reynolds: =/\= Reynolds to Tahna. How do the new old uniforms feel? =/\=
Tahna / Sevo / Nera / Standish: =/\= Response =/\=
Reynolds: =/\= Well, no one from a civilian freighter should be looking under the hood of a Starfleet shuttlecraft, but otherwise the facade should hold up. A genuine fake shuttle from 2367, riding to their rescue. =/\=
Tahna / Sevo / Nera / Standish: =/\= Response =/\=
Reynolds: =/\= There are no records of a civilian freighter going missing in this area, but our sensors aren’t picking up anyone close enough to help them before the Cube comes steamrolling through. I don’t know whether Johnson deliberately or accidentally stopped their rescue, but either way, to maintain the timeline we need to get them to safety. And without them ever realising their guardian angels come from thirty-five years in the future. =/\=
Tahna / Sevo / Nera / Standish: =/\= Response =/\=
Reynolds: =/\= I know it’s in good hands. Reynolds out. =/\=
She didn’t immediately open the channel to the next team. First she sent a ping, a voiceless check to see if it was a good time to talk. Finch’s team were possibly the most exposed, mingling with the population on New Cyndriel. Although the irritating Marshall’s team hadn’t located Johnson on the Unimatrix, they had done the next best thing—they had located his accomplice. Keibren Denshar, an Antosian officer who had served with Johnson. Trusted enough to be the Commodore’s back-up plan.
Finch: =/\= Response =/\=
Reynolds: =/\= How’s the festival? =/\=
Finch / Taelon / Nin: =/\= Response =/\=
Reynolds: =/\= Ensign Avoi got as much as she could before Denshar slipped into a coma. We know he’s there, on New Cyndriel, and he’s to deliver something if Johnson can’t stop the Cube... but we don’t know what, or to who. =/\=
Finch / Taelon / Nin: =/\= Response =/\=
Reynolds: =/\= I’m afraid you’ve got quite a task ahead of you. Not least because you’ve got era-appropriate equipment—we couldn’t risk anything more modern getting lost down there. ::She paused, a gentle tease sliding into her voice.:: Although I imagine at least one of you is probably quite comfortable with it. =/\=
Finch / Taelon / Nin: =/\= Response =/\=
Reynolds: =/\= Find one of Johnson’s zealots and get him off planet without being noticed. Easy as a cold start on a warp core. Good luck. =/\=
She exhaled a long breath, closing the last channel. They were so close to fixing things, but she felt as though the entire sky was populated with the sword of Damocles. Clashing against each other with every movement, ready to drop at the slightest misstep. There were so many moving parts, so many things they all had to do to put the timeline right. But they were doing it, and to the best of their ability. It was a grim thought that there would be one left to judge them if they failed.
Reynolds: How’s it looking?
Marshall / Gnaxac: Response
She leaned forward, briefly touching her fingers to a console, and a set of screens lit up. Text and schematics scrolled across them, internal maps of devices stolen in another time. Each of them deemed dangerous enough to warrant sealing away in a hidden facility. And their intention was to board a weapons platform where, in all likelihood, they were all deployed. Some for the Borg, yes. But Johnson had been meticulous in his planning, and she very much doubted he would leave anything to chance.
Reynolds: This is all the information we have from Depot 39. All the tech he stole, plus its intended and potential applications. Not only do we have to stop that weapons platform from firing, we need to destroy it so completely that no one can ever guess what it was, let alone use it. We’re talking about reducing it to component atoms.
Marshall / Gnaxac: Response
Reynolds: Well, the first challenge will be to get aboard. I can’t imagine he left it up to fate that it wouldn’t get any unwanted visitors.
Marshall / Gnaxac: Response
Commanding Officer
USS Gorkon
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