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Post by Deleted on Jun 4, 2006 17:27:03 GMT
OOC here i come to save the day
IC
"guess I'll go first" Cyle said as no one answered his earlier question. Slowly stepping into the tunnel, his marines following up the rear of the group. With his weapon drawn Cyle slowly crept forward, the task in itself was tedious, but he didn't want someone to hear them coming.
Cyle stopped when the tunnel ended, leading into what looked like another building. "I think this building was surrounded by the others, that why we couldn't see it, it like the buildings acting like a barrier, keeping this one from sight." Cyle looked into the room, to the right was another door, and behind it, Cyle could see the silhouette of a person, probably some kind of guard.
Cyle stepped out from the tunnel, and slowly walked to wards the door, his technical marine beside, him with splicing equipment. "Open it" Cyle stood back, his hands on waist, the rest of his marines behind him, weapons drawn. When the door opened the guard slowly turned his head and gasped as he looked down a barrel of a Klingon phaser rifle. "Move" the marine ordered, pushing him against a wall, allowing the others to move behind them.
When everyone had moved behind them, the marine turned the guard, romulan by looks, and pushed him forward, making him follow the others. With a quick smack, the romulan was knocked out and layed on the ground. Cyle nodded approvingly and continued to move. Around every corner they "captured" more guards, and knocked them out, no shots were fired, and very little noise was made. Cyle found a camera room, showing all of the rooms they had just visited, spotting the first room, Cyle saw a group of the bad guys checking on their friends.
"we've got company coming in from behind, Charlie team, stand guard, no one gets past you, understand?" the marines, the 3 that had come with him, nodded as they took up firing positions, and waited. "lets go" Cyle said as he led the way, much quicker down the halls. "Where are we going?" someone asked, "Commander Frek and Melain are being held in a room not to far from here, but they are guarded well. Or at least will be, once we get to them, we have to get back out, the ship's sensors obviously wont reach us here, so we have to make our way back out the way we came"
After a short fire fight, Cyle opened the door holding the two commanders. "see, i told you i would find them. Commanders, are you alright?" Cyle didn't wait for a reply, his marines moved in and started doing what little bit of medical voodoo, they knew how. After the two had checked out good, the group left the room as quick as possible.
Cyle hurried as quick as he could, seeing as he now had more than 15 people to keep an eye on, it was slow going. Cyle slowed down when he heard phaser fire ripping through the air, Charlie Team had been engaged with the enemy for more than long enough. Making sure everyone was armed, Cyle walked forward, jumping out into the hallway, he fired once and hit a human in the chest, three more shots were fired by others, and one more person fell, by the looks of it, one of the planets natives. In a matter of minutes, the rest had fallen, and three marines had been hit. "we gotta keep moving, lets go, grab them and move" Cyle said, his marines hurrying to get out into the open.
Meeting no more resistance they quickly got into the open, breathing clean fresh air once more, "Major Johnson to Nevada, 15 to beam up, 5 to sickbay" Cyle felt a little better when he felt the tingling sensation that came with being transported, and opened his eyes to see the familiar scenery of the transporter room, along with the admiral standing there.
<tag ALL, i just wanted to finish this so, i moved us along rather fast, i think>
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jasonfarsir
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Registered: Apr 20, 2024 5:57:55 GMT
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Post by jasonfarsir on Jun 4, 2006 20:30:52 GMT
Jason walked into the building very cautiously. Even thought the merines had taken care of the guards in the hall he was wasn't sure it was going to get any easier for any of them. When finaly getting to where they were holding Frek and Malain the merines had things almost completly under control but when people started shooting at the other part of the crew outside of the room. They returend fire. Jason almost got hit in the hand by one of them. Firing Jason with a direct hit to the one that almost hit him. Once the room was secured everyone relaxed for a few seconds while trying to see if Frek and Malain were okay as well as see who all was wounded. Once on board everyone had a sigh of relief and all thinking home sweet home.
OOC: sorry it took so long but my computers been messing up a little bit everytime I try to post something the computer has been kicking me offline. It's been shutting of games Í play that aren't a part of beign online so I might be going in the shop if I can't fix it myself. Don't worry I checked it's not a virus but something werid is going on with my computer sorry everyone
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Deleted
Registered: Apr 20, 2024 5:57:55 GMT
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Post by Deleted on Jun 5, 2006 4:43:02 GMT
An awkward silence had descended in the small dark room as Melain waited for Frek's reply to her question. Maybe what he had tried to tell her in the holodeck was simply not suitable anymore know that their deaths did not look so inevitable, but Melain was always one to believe in being honest and not concealing one's feelings. Her mother had always told her she would make a lousy vulcan.
Then the door burst open flooding to room with light, momentarily blinding Melain, she expected to see the triplets or even Fren. Instead she recognized the heroic form of Cyle, and before she could ask Frek if he too saw the apparition one Marine snatched her up and she felt a familiar tingle take over as she was transported out. She was going home.
(7953/ 72484)
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fthelev
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Registered: Apr 20, 2024 5:57:55 GMT
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Post by fthelev on Jun 5, 2006 14:17:07 GMT
His hand rubbed over his face and slowly he let his breath out. He felt tired, dead tired, and not like how you would feel after pulling a double shift. The murkiness of the room faded somewhat as his eyes began to get used to the dark. Not that he could see much, no, there was only the smallest amount of light falling into the room. Presumably through some crack somewhere. But it was enough to at least distinguish some shades. Not that there were many. Actually the only shades in there would be Melain and himself. Something moved in the dark, a couple of feet away. That something soon got a voice. Melain.
He had never said something that was truer than that. Of course, this was certainly not the first time he had found himself in picky situation. Come to think of it, it had happened on several occasions in the past year since graduating from the academy. But he had never been so sure of dying as when he was falling of that building. And that was most definitely not something he cared to repeat anytime soon. Well, never actually. But taking out a life insurance all of the sudden didn’t seem such a stupid thing to do. Frek made a mental note in case he would get out of this alive.
His eyes caught some movement in the darkness. One of the shades, well, the only one besides his own started moving. Melain placed her self with her back against the wall besides him.
Frek smiled. So did he, but unfortunately that was not exactly an option that was open to them. If they told them, they would be dead. If they didn’t, they would be dead a little later. But that would buy them some time. Time in which, with some little luck, okay, a hell of a lot of luck, something brilliant could happen. He could feel Melain brush against his arm. She was shaking alright. He probably was as well. Could be that the build up tension needed a way to release itself, perhaps it was just that they were cold or simply plain nerves. Melain broke her little pause. Now it was Frek’s turn to pause. Not that he had said that much in the past few minutes. Somehow he did feel somewhat uncomfortable. Not that he felt like he was comfortably sitting in some beach-chair on a Risan beach sipping a cocktail and enjoying a beautiful sunset before, and you’d still have a better time attending a funeral, but still. When you are about to experience what it must be like for a brick falling off a tall building you tend to blurt out things easier than when, well, almost every other not-so-lethal situation. He swallowed and wetted his lips, as far as was possible. His tongue probably resembled a dried out old shoe as well. “Well, I…eh.” “What?” “Well, I think I’m in love with you.” It came out in blurt. At least that was that. That brought the awkward silence back into the room. Although this time it was probably a bit more silent.
Some faint sounds penetrating their little cell. The sounds were vaguely familiar. Whatever Melain wanted to say in return or was thinking had to wait. “Weapons fire,” Frek said. He sat straight up. “What?” She sounded confused. “Listen!” It was clearly audible by now, and it was getting closer. Was that good or bad? “The Consortium is under attack?” her voice was strained, and there was a trace of hope shimmering in it. Perhaps they had come to rescue them, to get them out, to get them home. It was an optimistic thought, perhaps to optimistic to be true. There could be a million reasons for the weapons fire. After all, this could hardly be described as a safe-zone. He shrugged. “I dunno,” Frek replied breathlessly. Neither of them mentioned the Starfleet possibility. No need to tempt fate. The high pitched whine of the phaser blast seemed to have come from right behind the wall. There was a dull thumb against it, as if someone had hit the door. Both Starfleet officers had gotten to their feet by now, standing away slightly from the door. If something came blasting through it, you didn’t necessarily wanted to be in the way. Melain was clasping his arm, probably an involuntarily reaction to the suspense and the expectations of what could be on the other side of the door. It felt as an iron clamp.
The phaser fire ceased and the door creaked upon. In a reflex they raised their hands to protect their eyes against the light streaming in.
It was Cyle. The sense of relief was enormous. Imagine having to walk up a steep hill with a blanket made out of lead wrapped around your shoulders, for weeks and then finally to be able to shed off. That, in one word, is fantastic. Frek nodded to the Chief Marine and looked around. It looked familiar. “Yeah, we’re okay.” “Good,” Cyle replied, “We need to get out into the open as soon as possible. We’re too deep to transport out.” He didn’t reply and examined the corridor they were standing in. They had been taken through here before. When they had been taken to Wilan Fren’s office, if that what it was, the first time around. “Tell me major,” he inquired accepting the phaser that was handed to him. “Did you encounter a Trill…” Frek raised his hand to a certain height, “…about this big and three large cube-shaped thugs? They look a bit like trained Altairan gorillas. Of the heavy and dangerous kind.” Cyle shook his head. “No sir. No Trill. But I think we disabled those three guys you described.” The marine added a short and accurate description. “Huey, Dewey and Louie,” Melain muttered. A woman with red hair raised an eyebrow about half an inch. “Weren’t those ducks?” “Who the hell are you?” “Ensign Loki.” “Ducks?” Frek gave Cyle a pad on the shoulder. “For you just sitting ones.”
Cyle was glancing around quickly, checking if everyone was accounted for. “We need to go! Commander?” Frek stared down the corridor and hesitated. But his mind was quickly made up. He needed to finish this. “You go ahead, I’ll be right behind you.” “Commander?” “I need to cancel an invitation,” Frek said, determined. Cyle looked non-understandingly. “Frek, don’t do anything stupid.” Frek looked at Melain and raised and eyebrow. “Do I ever?” A thought entered his mind and he hoped everyone would see that as a rhetorical question. Increasing his pace he jogged through the corridor. So far he had been in luck, no-one in the way. Not that he expected it, really. Most of them probably had their hands full with the Nevada’s security teams. At the end of the corridor left, he remembered. The office looked the same as it did last time they were here, yesterday. Or was it the day before that? He didn’t really know. It was hard to keep track of time when you are held in dark, unpleasant places. Especially when you are kept in the dark as well.
Wilan Fren was standing behind his desk. Resting on the desk-top with one hand, the other giving some commands to the computer terminal before him. “Hello Wilan.” Frek stood in the door opening pointing the phaser towards him. The Trill looked up slowly from the screen. To say he was somewhat agitated would not be most accurate of descriptions. His eyes looked cold and dark, only able to reflect what really drove him at this moment, anger and hate. “You!” He didn’t spoke the word, he spat it out. “You ruined everything! That PADD was the last thing I needed to get to the top, but now…” He made a wild and quick gesture with an arm. If Frek hadn’t been through the last few days and hadn’t been that exhausted he had seen it coming. The fishbowl on the desk was sent flying, hurled towards him. He spun to the right, just fast enough to avoid what would be a very unpleasant contact with the fishbowl. Right behind him the bowl shattered sending pieces of glass and one or two fish flying. There was this stinging sensation on his cheek and he could feel something warm dripping down. The cut itself might not have been very deep, but it was enough. Enough to make his hand waver off target, and enough for Wilan to take advantage of. He clearly kept himself fit. With ease he leaped onto the desk and dove off it the other side. He smacked against Frek, who in turn, hit the wall. Frek tried to strengthen his grip, but it was no use. He was forced to see the phaser fly out of hand and slide across the floor to where it was well beyond his reach. It wasn’t much of fight. Wilan Fren was in a far better condition Frek had ever been in. Frek desperately tried finding a way to deliver a good blow, but he simply lacked the space and perhaps strength. His schoolmate grabbed him by the collar and the next thing he remembered was his head hitting the wall. It took him quite some effort to fight off the haze that was trying to get a hold of his vision and other senses. Going after Wilan might not have been that good of an idea.
When he got more or less full control over himself again the door besides him closed and Wilan was gone. Frek swore passionately and probably made a few words up along the way. He scurried across the floor to get the phaser back. Back on his feet he stumbled through the door after his adversary, this was not one his more stable moments. Wilan must have been under the impression that this facility was under a full blown attack, Frek thought, else he would never have fled. He found him standing ten metres from the bend in the corridor. Frek assumed this was an emergency or an escape route. Or at least it once was. Where it was once bridged there was now a deep gap. Frek looked for support on the wall with his left hand and raised his other. “No way out, Wilan. It’s over.” Wilan looked over his shoulder and back at Frek. The phaser in Frek’s hand trembled slightly; he couldn’t help wondering what Wilan was thinking. “It’s never over,” he snapped. He was breathing deep and heavily. Wilan tensed his muscles, something that didn’t go unnoticed this time. The same moment Wilan set himself in motion Frek fired the phaser. It was over now. Frek didn’t check the phaser. Perhaps it was set on stun, maybe it was set to kill. He didn’t particularly care. Neither did he have to. When the shot hit Wilan he had stumbled back, and that was one step over the line. He tumbled backwards into the gap. Whether the phaser blast killed him or the drop, in the end it didn’t matter. The result was the same. It was over.
The gust of fresh air was a nice change when he reached the surface. He could see most the team had already assembled, ready for transport. The order to beam was given the moment he joined them. It was long time since he had felt transporter sensation. And most importantly a Starfleet transporter. The familiar surroundings of one of the Nevada’s transporter rooms soon replaced the Tammeron horizon. “Are you okay? What happened to Wilan Fren?” Melain wanted to know. Frek smiled mirthlessly. “He’s most definitely not coming to my school reunion next year.” He tried to scratch himself on the back and grimaced. “I have this uncontrollable itch,” he said as some crewmembers carefully took a step backwards, “Perhaps I picked up something nasty on that planet.”
(18622/98974)
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