Vice Admiral Quinn Reynolds - Time Is the Fire In Which We Burn (Part II)
Quinn Reynolds
((Apartment Block, Upper vIq'mItlh City, veHrom’nagh))
As they rushed into the building, glass crashed onto the ground behind them, shards flying in all directions. Taelon made straight for the lift in the lobby, though Sevo seemed less than pleased by the idea. Quinn couldn’t see much of an alternative; six flights of stairs would take far too long.
V’lar: The damaged window is on the sixth floor. Given that is believed to be the informant's location, I would surmise that it is highly improbable that it is a coincidence.
T. Sevo: I’m not sure it’s wise to take the lift up to a possible hostile environment.
V’Lar: Admiral, we know the informant is at risk and that some kind of altercation has taken place on that floor. Time may be of the essence.
Quinn’s eyes briefly flicked upward, as though she was seeking some kind of succor from the heavens.
Reynolds: ::Curtly,:: Yes, I’m aware. Do you have a viable alternative, Lieutenant?
T. Sevo: ::He sighed. Evidently, he did not.:: Very well, in you go. I’ll be last in, first out.
Quinn lifted her eyebrows, fixing the Trill with a distinctly unimpressed look at his patronising response. She didn’t particularly like the idea either, but delay after delay had seen them arrive when Ep’ehko was already being assaulted. They no longer had the time for a safer approach, and so into the lift they went.
Floors ticked past, slower than she liked but faster than if they’d raced up the stairs. While watching the pIqaD¹ display count up to six, Quinn mentally oriented herself in the building, mapping out the direction to Ep’ehko’s apartment. The lift doors parted, and Toran raised his phaser, sweeping left and right. There was nothing to see, no obvious threat, and he stepped out of the lift with a verbal confirmation.
T. Sevo: Clear.
Reynolds: Then let’s get a move on.
Murky crimson light bathed the hallway, the corridor bereft of any windows. Doors lined the walls, and a pungent stench assaulted Quinn’s nose, wafting up from accumulated rubbish. She glanced toward their Vulcan, hoping V’Lar wasn’t suffering too badly with the smell. As she took a step toward their destination, she saw signs of recent passage: a pair of toppled rubbish bags, and a broken transmitter kicked through the dust of a rarely travelled corner. It didn’t necessarily mean anything in a busy apartment block, but she noted it, regardless. There, she realised Sevo had yet to move, and looked toward him.
T. Sevo: What apartment did you say he was in?
Taelon: Eighteen.
V'Lar: Judging from the apparent floor plan, ::She also gestured ahead of them:: I believe it is the fourth door on the left from our current position.
T. Sevo: Response
Four doors down, barely any distance at all. Taelon seemed fascinated by a particular piece of graffiti as they moved toward the apartment; a yellow and red targ, charging with tusks in full view, and the text “‘yInlu'taH 'e' bajnISlu'.” Only the strong can survive. Not an uncommon sentiment among Klingons, she supposed, but the bold design, colours, and motto made her wonder if they were in gang territory.
She frowned as they arrived at the door. Someone had obviously gone to town with it; there were dents and scrapes along the edge where someone had forced it open. But it was closed now, and she had to wonder if that was automatic, or intentional.
V'Lar: I am detecting faint Klingon life signs from within.
Reynolds: How many?
T. Sevo: Responses
V'Lar: The readings are fluctuating, they may be injured, or there may be something in their immediate vicinity that is interfering with tricorder readings.
Taelon: I—
A muffled scream made it through the walls, dull thuds and thumps following, and Quinn’s heart lurched. They had wasted too much time. Taelon instinctively hit the open button, but the door didn’t move. With no further thought, the El Aurian slipped his fingers around the bent edge of the sliding door and tried to force it open, the metal creaking and squealing. Quinn frowned, her eyes travelling around the edges of the door. Someone had got it open and closed again, so it was unlikely to be a structural issue. Mechanical, then, and that was an area of her expertise.
V’Lar / T.Sevo: Response
Taelon: Damn— V’Lar, can you —
Hunkering down by the edge of the door, she pried open a panel next to it. Her hand delving into the innards of the door’s opening mechanism, she rattled off a sharp series of orders.
Reynolds: Taelon, stop it and get out of the way. You’d be the first in the firing line if you got it open. Set up ARIA to watch the corridors once we’re inside. V’Lar, I want more detail about who’s in the apartment, at least an idea of how many we’re dealing with. Sevo, I want you on point to head in once we have the door open.
V'Lar / Taelon / T. Sevo: Response
The sounds from the apartment stilled, and the sinking feeling in her belly gained mass. But her efforts found fruit and the door ground open with a metallic shriek. Wind immediately whistled through the entranceway, and rain pooled on the hard flooring of the apartment. Furniture lay overturned, contents scattered and shattered.
It was quiet. Not even the sound of panting breaths or pained groans. Nothing at all. Quinn drew her phaser and then looked toward Sevo with a nod, indicating he should take the lead.
V'Lar / Taelon / T. Sevo: Response
¹ pIqaD: The Klingon alphabet
Commanding Officer
USS Gorkon
T238401QR0