LCDR Nolen Hobart — Down to a T
Nolen Hobart
((Corridor, Deck 8, Main Module, Deep Space 33))
Hobart: ::pointing to Jacin and El’Heem:: Stay with her, and stay hidden until it's clear. Matthews, leave the stretcher and whatever else you grabbed from the cargo bay. Weapons only.
Ensign Matthews nodded and set down the stretcher, before following,in behind Hobart, who in turn followed.in behind Jones, who followed.behind Bobbart. Nolen sensed from the marines ahead of him some mild concern—not quite fear, more like a fear for others. And from.behind he felt Matthews mentally whipping himself into bravery.
As they advanced, the marines communicated through hand signals, and Nolen did his best to follow along. They weren't meant for him, and so he wasn't too put out by his own failure to follow along. Sound from the right, was all he gathered. Then Jones readied a grenade and switched places with Bobbart.
Bobbart signaled to halt, and Nolen obliged. Rank mattered less in that moment than experience. From behind him, Hobart heard Matthews whisper.
Matthews: More coming?
Hobart: ::whispered:: From the right.
Anxiety took hold of Matthew's mind, and Nolen fought to keep it out of his. He gripped his phaser tightly. The grenade would go off, and hopefully disoriented their prey, such that a frontal assault wouldn't be suicide.
It didn't matter how long it took. In fact, maybe it would be better. If the grenade was able to hit the original two plus whatever was coming up the side to join them, the attack would be more effective. And as long as—
A blood-curdling scream rang out from behind them, and Nolen instinctively turned to look. Panic echoed silently with it, and pain, as El’Heem frantically worked to sedate the wounded Caitian. And in an instant, the element of surprise was thoroughly squandered.
Bobbart: Throw it now!
The two marines threw caution to the wind and stepped forward, clearing the arc of the wall. She fired her rifle, letting loose a series of rapid pulses as Jones drew his arm back and lobbed the grenade forward down the hall. Nolen sprang up, a cramp in his calf complaining, and charged forward just in time to see the bright flash and fire of the grenade, and an armored Tholian crumple. The second Tholian returned fire and began to back down the corridor to the right, toward the interior of the station.
Nolen leveled his phaser at the armored foe. He didn't expect to do much damage with a hand phaser, but there were undoubtedly weak spots. And the distraction of covering fire would hopefully throw the enemy off enough to make them vulnerable in a more fundamental way. He fired, repeatedly, as Bobbart pressed forward and rolled another grenade. The enemy again crumpled, cracked suit whistling in protest of the pressure differential.
They reached the corner and Nolen stood behind it, leaning out to fire at a pair of advancing Tholian reinforcements. The marines pressed on, with Bobbart moving precariously ahead of them, apparently intending to use an enemy carcass as cover.
Blue and green streaks of energy crackled past them, and Nolen retreated when a bolt hit the wall in front of him, spraying sparks into the hallway. When he leaned out again, he saw that Bobbart was entering into melee range with one of the Tholian soldiers.
Hobart: Nononononono, bad!
Matthews: Bobbart! Fall back!
He didn't know if Matthews had the same fear, he only knew that they had simultaneous fear. The temperature and pressure inside a Tholian’s suit of armor was enough to roast a human alive, which meant winning a hand to hand fight was pyrrhic. Bobbart swung away with her rifle butt anyway.
Matthews started shooting past the tangled warriors, as Jones brought a third enemy down and a fifth and sixth stomped towards them. Nolen kept firing. The advantage of the spider-like structure of the Tholian was that there were plenty of bits to shoot at without getting dangerously close to friendly fire. One shot was lucky, and struck a joint in the armor. Steam sprayed out, directly towards Bobbart’s thigh, and the Tholian lost its balance for a moment. It was enough, and Bobbart drove her rifle butt down onto the floundering enemy’s faceplate with a satisfying CRACK!
Then she fell, screaming and gripping her torched leg. Nolen felt pain consume her. He felt more than that, but he brushed it off, unwilling to let himself falter in battle.
Matthews: Jonesy, get her back to El’Heem now! Now! Move! And toss me your weapon!
Nolen provided covering fire as Jones slid his rifle along the smooth deckplate to Matthews. Having witnessed four of their fellows fall, the last two Tholian reinforcements advanced slowly, attempting to fill the corridor with small arms fire. Maybe fumbled with the rifle.
Hobart: If we have to fall back, we draw them outboard, not back to the cargo bay. ::firing:: Away from the wounded!
From behind him to his right, he heard Jones call out to Dr. El’Heem.
Jonesy: DOC! It’s her leg.
Matthews: Okay, being an engineer not fun, but surprise security detail? Oddly satisfying!
Nolen couldn't help but grin.
Hobart: Where the legs meet the thorax the armor is flexible— ::firing:: and weak!
He wasn't sure if Matthews understood his directions, or was just a poor shot. In the Ensign’s defense, none of his attempts to hit that bullseye were successful at this range, and the rapid fire from the enemy made it that much harder to focus.
That, and the cacophony of emotional flavors that were inexplicably growing stronger in his mind. He focused on the battle, as best he could. The two Tholians stood relatively centered in the corridor, forming a menacing wall. Behind them was darkness except for the light from phaser bolts and beams that flew wide past them.
And then there was a light. Bright and red, it appeared suddenly in the distance beyond them and only by the illumination on the walls, floor, and ceiling did Nolen recognize it as a charged projectile. In an instant it slammed into the back of one of the Tholians, and in a brilliant flash consumed the both of them. Nolen shielded his eyes so as not to be blinded. When he looked again, he saw nothing but smoldering wreckage of what had once been a pair of armored Tholians. Just beyond them, still in darkness, he saw a large, shadowy humanoid frame approaching, about six-foot-even, flanked by a smaller shape. A harsh voice called out.
Nibar: Boom! Lawyered.
Matthews: Response
Nolen stepped out from around the corner as the figure stepped into the light. It was a tall Cardassian, draped in a red Starfleet uniform, and carrying a long silver tube—a micro-torpedo launcher, Hobart fathomed. Beside him was a shorter human, with ruffled red hair. Nolen felt like he'd seen the man before, but couldn't quite place him.
Hobart: Thanks for the save. Lt. Commander Hobart, USS Khitomer. This is Ensign Matthews.
Matthews: Response
Nibar: Lieutenant Nibar, DS33 JAG. Commander Stergis sends her regards. We knew you guys were set up down here, and saw a force inbound on scanners before they went offline. Worried we wouldn't get down here in time. ::gesturing:: This is Weyler, my paralegal.
The emotional static continued to build in Nolen's mind, and he didn't notice whether the small man said anything. Was it from this officer? No, he didn't think so. He pinched the bridge of his nose with a thumb and index finger as Ensign El’Heem came running.
El’Heem: Commander…? Matthews…?
Hobart: ::calling out:: Over here, doctor.
Matthews / El’Heem: Response
Nibar: You okay, sir?
The cacophony in his skull grew ever more intense, as Nolen realized he was sensing things he'd felt. Not just things, every thing. Every bit of fear, pain, regret, love, betrayal, lust, anger, joy, spite, and great volumes of mischief roaring back. Not just that, it seemed like everything he'd ever seemed in others, too. In the noise, he could pick out his mother's horror and terror, clear as a single voice in a choir. His vision blurred and the pain in his head doubled in on itself. He felt as if he would pop, and he couldn't figure out why. Until he could.
Hobart: Oh dammit it's that Sencha nonsense, isn't it? Of all the rotten—
That's when everything went black.
Tags/TBC
———
Lt. Commander Nolen Hobart
Executive Officer
USS Khitomer (NCC-62400)
A240001NH3