Vice Admiral Quinn Reynolds - A Glooming Peace This Morning With It Brings (Part II)
Quinn Reynolds
((Apartment Block, Upper vIq'mItlh City, veHrom'nagh))
Thankfully, V'Lar arrived at her destination in one piece—and no doubt because no one else had come down the stairs. Had they thought better of it, or was there no one else left upstairs to join in? ARIA continued to hover nearby, though it hadn't fired a single phaser beam. She guessed it required some kind of explicit approval to do so, a safety feature she appreciated. He seemed to be trying, but the only thing leaving his mouth was blood-frothed spittle, and he was struggling to get himself up on his elbows.
ARIA: This unit requires permission to fire.
T.Sevo: Response
Trying to tend the injured in a phaser fight was like battling a house fire with a hand extinguisher. V'Lar crawled the last few centimetres toward her Klingon patient, but Ep'ehko was fading fast. Blood foamed at his lips, a sure sign it was bubbling through his lungs, and Taelon was no better. They needed a decisive end to the firefight, then they could evacuate to where there were enough staff, resources, and beds to give each the attention they needed.
V'Lar: ::To Ep'ehko,:: Remain still whilst I treat your wounds.
Ep'ehko: Generator's — upstairs, in the bath — in the bathroom —
V'Lar: Can the generator be disabled remotely?
Ep'ehko's answer was a quick, messy shake of his head. It was the reason they had cut the sealed front door open, rather than attempting to disable the suppression field. The young Klingon had made it clear there was no access to the system from this apartment. The power, controls, and field projector were all in the apartment above.
T.Sevo: Response
ARIA: ::It turned toward Quinn.:: This unit can join in defence, or seek the suppression field device. This unit requests direction, Admiral.
Reynolds: Defence, ARIA. Move your shield to the door, and hug the ceiling so they can't shoot at you.
With two injured people downstairs, it seemed like the best use of ARIA was to protect them. Not to mention, they had no clue what the tactical situation upstairs looked like. They didn't even know how many hostiles or friendlies there were, and the narrow stairwell was a kill zone. Just as they had quickly downed the two Klingons emerging on the lower floor, any attackers upstairs could easily focus their fire on the robot before it got out of the closet.
V'Lar tended to Ep'ehko, her hands diving into her medkit for equipment and consumables. Taelon's elbows skidded out from underneath him and he slumped back down to the ground, his head bouncing off her boot. He mumbled out an apology, so threadbare she could barely hear it.
Taelon: S-sorry…
Reynolds: Don't be daft.
V'Lar: ::To Ep'ehko:: I have stemmed the bleeding, you should be able to breathe more easily but you will require proper medical care.
Ep'ehko: Yeah— ::He grimaced.:: Yeah, I get that.
V'Lar: ::She peeked out, trying to get a sightline on Taelon.:: What is Lieutenant Taelon's status?
Quinn fought to keep a clear head, trying to attack the problem before they were overwhelmed. It felt like a warp core breach in progress, only her engineers had focused on the symptoms—the intermittent power spikes, the building pressure in the EPS—instead of shutting off the antimatter flow. Her gaze flicked briefly toward the ceiling. It was quieter upstairs now, but there was no way to know whether Torghen had overpowered the conspirators, or vice versa.
ARIA's shields shimmered under a volley of disruptor bolts. A second round followed almost immediately, more intense than the first. Whoever was shooting was now specifically trying to drop the shield barring the doorway.
Reynolds: Ask me again when we're not being shot at.
Taelon: Response
V'Lar: ::To Sevo:: Do you believe you can cover me to allow me to reach Lieutenant Taelon?
Using their one security officer for repeated bursts of suppressive fire wasn't getting them anywhere. At best, it was maintaining the status quo, at worst, it was trapping them while the attacking Klingons manoeuvred for a better position or waited for reinforcements. Given their luck so far, she was banking on the latter. And while V'Lar had made it across the room once, a second time was just asking for their doctor to join the growing litany of the wounded.
Reynolds: No, stay there. Sevo, use ARIA's shield before they can collapse it and clear the corridor. V'Lar, once he's done that, you can move.
T.Sevo: Response
V'Lar: My movement might help draw attention away from ARIA.
Reynolds: The robot is expendable; you are not. Stay where you are until Sevo has cleared the corridor.
Taelon / T. Sevo: Responses
V'Lar: I am ready.
There was still no sign of movement from the stairwell, and no sound from upstairs. With ARIA shielding the doorway and Sevo's phaser searing through the air, Quinn dared a short peek at her tricorder. Upstairs was a hazy mess of sensor signals: life signs, the interference of the suppression field, and the signature residual hadrons and ions of Klingon disruptor fire. None of the life signs were moving, and none of them looked hale and hearty.
She stepped over the two fallen Klingons at the base of the stairwell, dozing in their stun-induced stupor, and climbed two stairs at a time until she reached the landing. She paused there, phaser levelled, ready to hurl herself back down the stairs, heart hammering against her breastbone. This was a stupid idea. But one of her team was down, she could hardly send the doctor up, and Sevo needed ARIA to help clear the corridor below.
Reynolds: Torghen? ::There was no answer, and she called out again.:: Torghen, are you there?
Torghen: Today is an obnoxious day to die. ::He coughed.:: You can enter.
Still gripping her phaser, she carefully ascended the remaining stairs. Somehow, the apartment was in an even worse state than before; furniture in pieces, disruptor blasts charring the walls. Three Klingons lay sprawled on the floor, and Torghen was in the middle of struggling to his feet, his uniform stained and punctured, and he swayed a little once upright.
Reynolds: Are they..?
Torghen: They live to fight another day. Those who ambushed us—
Reynolds: Downstairs. Unconscious. They must have called for reinforcements. We were attacked through the apartment door as well.
Torghen: Cowards, ::he spat blood on the floor,:: and traitors.
The sound of phaser and disruptor fire stopped echoing up the stairs. Her heart gave an alarmed thump, but then her brain reminded her that if both had stopped, that meant Sevo had claimed the victory. Still...
Reynolds: Are we clear?
V'Lar / Taelon / T. Sevo: Response
The immediate crisis was over, and a few minutes of breathing room was all they needed. It gave Quinn the chance to disable the suppression field—finally, they could play their hand. The hum of transports filled the air; Starfleet security officers and science officers flooded the area, sickbay received a new set of patients, and the brig welcomed some temporary guests.
Torghen steadfastly refused care until the medics had tended to his more injured officers, and no one argued too hard with the steel-eyed Klingon. Quinn lingered in sickbay only long enough to see Taelon and Ep'ehko lifted onto biobeds before moving off toward the labs. There were answers there, and she wanted to see if their teams aboard the ship were ready to provide them.
Shortly thereafter, she stood in front of Marg, informing him of what they had discovered. What they still didn't know hung in the air like a lead weight—though they had found the murderers, who directed them remained a mystery. Marg seemed oddly satisfied with this, the politician running schemes within schemes, and with thanks for discretion she had never promised, the Gorkon's invitation to veHrom'nagh reached its end.
Two households, both alike in dignity,
In fair veHrom’nagh, where we lay our scene,
From ancient grudge break to new mutiny,
Where uncivil blood makes dishonor the scheme.
From forth the orbit docks of these two foes
A ship of crystal laden meets ill fate,
While murder foul brings dishonor afront
And strange new drugs make hands of all unclean.
fin
Commanding Officer
USS Gorkon
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