Vice Admiral Quinn Reynolds - Time Is the Fire In Which We Burn (Part I)
Quinn Reynolds
((Transporter Room, USS Gorkon))
Quinn’s route to the transporter room had included a brief stop in the ship’s intelligence suite to gather both information and a few useful trinkets. She was the first to arrive, and there she waited. Her thoughts roamed across the information they had discovered thus far, slotting the pieces together in different configurations, mentally testing theories to see how they fit.
V'Lar was first to arrive, silently offering Quinn a quick nod and moving toward the steps to the transporter pad. Sevo was second, and he straightened to parade attention as soon as he stepped through the door.
T. Sevo: Lieutenant Toran Sevo, reporting as ordered, sir. What’s the situation?
She covered the salient points as quickly as she could without sacrificing necessary detail. He was, as expected, shocked and unhappy to hear about what happened to Ayiana — but she was quick to reassure him V'Lar had taken good care and the Trill was expected to make a full recovery.
As she was wrapping up, Taelon stepped through the door. His cheeks flushed with apology, hands wringing together. With everyone assembled, she saw Toran doing a surreptitious collar check, inspecting all the pips present.
Taelon: Admiral, Commanders — my apologies. I hope you’ve not been, um, waiting too long…
T. Sevo: Just got here myself, sir.
V'Lar: Your timeliness is noted, Lieutenant Taelon.
Quinn didn’t offer any further commentary; she’d made it clear several times there was an unknown deadline hanging over their heads, and likely at least one life on the line. Taelon caught the bite in V'Lar’s words and his blush deepened, gaze dropping briefly to the floor before he looked toward Sevo.
Taelon: Oh, um, nice to meet you, sir.
T. Sevo: Oh no, I salute you, sir. I’m just a JG.
Toran gestured to the pips on his collar—one gold and one gold-rimmed—and Taelon’s gaze followed the gesture. Out of the corner of her eye, Quinn saw V'Lar observing the exchange with the intellectual curiosity of an anthropologist. With a small press of her lips, the hybrid stepped onto the transporter pad, readying herself for the beam down.
Taelon: Do we have a bead on our informant’s location?
T. Sevo: By calling me, sir, I assume things are dangerous down there and you need more security?
Reynolds: We were heading to his office in the vIr’cheSa district when our cruiser was hijacked. But I’ve had intelligence try to dig up something more concrete. It’s their opinion he’s more likely to be at his home at this time of day.
V'Lar: We have already encountered multiple instances of aggression, it would be logical to anticipate further such danger.
T. Sevo: Any special security arrangements I need to know about? From your quick briefing, it sounds like you suspect more assassination attempts down there?
Taelon nodded, while V'Lar observed the Trill with her usual impassive expression. The team appeared to be in the uncomfortable position of being collateral damage; not targets themselves, but considered disposable if they got in the way. The problem was they were putting themselves in the way by trying to solve the murders and disrupt any further assassination attempts.
Reynolds: It seems likely. We’ve encountered two victims so far, and there’s good reason to believe our informant is also a target. Are we all ready to go?
T. Sevo: Fully prepared, sir. Will we be beaming down to the last known location of this Ep’ehko directly?
Reynolds: We’re beaming down to the street outside his apartment.
V'Lar: Do we have any additional support available should we require it?
T. Sevo: We should be able to call in for reinforcements if needed.
Quinn nodded. The statement didn’t require any further verbal confirmation from her. V'Lar carried out a check of her medkit, though Quinn didn’t imagine it was necessary. She couldn’t imagine the Vulcan arriving in a state other than totally prepared. Perhaps it was just one of those little quirks, like checking the door lock one last time before heading out.
V'Lar: I am ready to proceed.
Taelon: As am I, Admiral.
Reynolds: Then let’s go.
Everyone finalised their positions on the transporter pad, and Quinn gave the nod to their transporter operator. A familiar curtain of glittering light surrounded her, and the grey lines and bright lights of the transporter room faded away, the cool clean air replaced by the humid heat of the planet. Gloom was once again their constant companion, neon sparking through the oppressive shadow of the orbital ring.
A tall apartment building loomed ahead of them, looking as much like a prison as a home, at least to Quinn’s Federation-acquainted eyes. The windows reminded her of the arrow slits from old European castles — albeit somewhat larger — stratified in neat rows all the way to the building’s flat roof.
As soon as the confinement beam vanished, Sevo turned on a dime, his dark eyes searching for any sign of danger. ARIA hummed with a now familiar blue glow, sensors at work.
T. Sevo: Immediate area is clear.
Taelon: Um, the colony records say their apartment is — Su'roq jav cha’chorgh. Floor six, apartment eighteen. They—
Above their heads, over the hiss of rain, a shattering crack silenced the rest of Taelon’s sentence. Sevo quickly pulled his phaser, while Quinn glanced up to see shards of glass mixing with raindrops. She quickly dived for cover in the entranceway, while Taelon, stunned by the sight, required a physical push from Sevo.
T. Sevo: MOVE!
TBC
Commanding Officer
USS Gorkon
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