Unity – Damage
by Alderman Dorian Gabriel & Colonel James Darson & Lieutenant Commander Greo Tovon
Post Details
ON:
Elliot Hartsfield continued to move amongst the other denizens of the station. He observed them slightly as he continue to make his way towards the designated meeting area. He knew that what he and the other members of his Maquis Cell was going to cause some pain, but it was necessary to liberate them. For too long they had been lied to by the various powers that be. They had been lied to about their destiny and what path it was to follow.
For over a century, the Federation had led its citizens to believe that they were the only "peaceful" alternative throughout the universe. That if it were not for them, their lives would be filled with terror, chaos, and lawlessness. But Hartsfield had learned firsthand how the Federation would abandon those that were considered and "inconvenience" or simply on the wrong side of a negotiation. Hartsfield and those like him were not traitors, they were Patriots.
Hartsfield entered the cargo bay and began to wait for the arrival of his companion.
Tral slipped into the cargo bay, the small case clutched to his chest and a look of concern on his blue features. He had been sneaking from doorway to doorway all the way from Science Lab 1, looking over his shoulder at every step. Sweat dripped from his brow and he nearly ran the last few steps. He stopped by a cargo container and put the case down.
"Jackpot!" He said as he unclipped the lid.
"Very good," Hartsfield said to his companion as he withdrew a small object from his coat and approached his companion.
"I told the techies in the main lab that Lieutenant Tovon wanted them to prepare full reports on the processing of the Dunhamite. Got them all out of there and left me able to pinch this and leave our special gift."
He held up a data device that looked Romulan in origin, but Tral new that deep within it lay great secrets and information all encoded in Federation Standard.
"Good," He nodded. "With the Science Department busy with other endeavours, that will give us enough time to complete our tasks. We all have begun to take the necessary steps to make our presence known." He said as he handed Tral the device that was shaped similarly to a standard starfleet commbadge.
Tral took the device and attached it to the data storage device. As Hartsfield gave him a funny look he explained.
"This is more important to the cause than I am." He looked at the ground embarrassed. "We should be getting ready."
"I am sending the necessary signal to Ensign Ghram within the Marine Tactical Area as well as to L'kere on the Main Promenade. Any questions?" he asked.
"None." Tral replied, pulling his tricorder out ready to send his own signal. "Just let me know when."
[Marine Detention Center]
Ensign Ghram sat in what could only be described as a enlarged box more so than an actual prison cell. He looked over towards the Marine that was designated as his guard and tried to gain his attention.
"Hey! Yeah you! I am a Starfleet Officer! I have rights and I demand to be placed in more HOSPITABLE confines!" Ghram said with much indignation.
The Marine's eyebrow twitched as he tried to ignore the shouting prisoner. After the MP's had scrambled to respond to the Level 4 Security Alert on the promenade, they had arrested a whole crowd of unruly brawlers. Some of the overflow that couldn't fit inside the brig in the Security Suite had been diverted down here, to the Marine Detention Center. And while most of them had seen fit to sit quietly while lawyers could be scavenged up for the civilians (JAG for the Starfleet), this one officer who had apparently been involved in the original fight kept up the yelling.
"Shut it!" He shouted back at him, "You're just as guilty as the rest of these people. So keep quiet, or I'm going to throw your ass in solitary so fast you're head will spin!"
"Oh ho ho ho! Mr. Big Man, Big-bad Marine standing on the OTHER side of the forcefield. I bet if you dropped that field I promise you I'll make you eat your words, along with that chair." He said in a mocking manner.
The Marine let out a low growl at the provocative words, and angrily stalked towards the forcefield. He reached out for the controls and punched in the deactivation sequence. As soon as the field dropped though, the fleetie was off the cot and rushing straight at him. He caught the Marine around the midsection and both of them fell to the deck, his rifle spinning away from him.
Ghram waited for the field to make that familiar spark as it was deactivate before he leapt off of his cot and lunged towards the officer. They rolled on the ground before Ghram was tossed off and into a nearby bulkhead.
The Marine got up quickly with a look of rage on his face as the Starfleet officer groaned on the ground. The other people stuck in the detention center were up and making a ruckus now, shouting up a storm. The Marines outside the cell area would be watching on the security feeds and would be sending backup, at most about 30 seconds away.
So he would have to make the most out of those 30 seconds.
He started to stride confidently over to the man on the ground who was beginning to get his wind back. Instead of going for his rifle, or the pistol at his side, he withdrew the stun baton at his belt and twirled it around while energizing it with a loud buzz.
Ghram crouched onto one knee as he tried to regain his breathe. He knew that to get the maximum effect from the explosion, the doors to the Barrack would have to be open at the time of the detonation. Therefore, he needed to draw this fight out longer.
He saw the larger man coming towards him with the baton slowly increasing in charge. He began to cough violently as he held a hand in protest.
"I. . .need. .." he tried to say in a hoarse tone.
The Marine moved forward and grasped the officer by the arm, prepared to taze him and toss him back in the cell.
Ghram managed to wearily climb to his feet. Just as the Marine proceeded to move towards Ghram to help him back into the cell, Gharm quickly grabbed the man's arm and forcefully slammed his elbow into the bridge of his nose before driving a knee into the Marine's solar-plexus.
The deft maneuver caught the Marine off-guard and allowed Gharm to step behind him and slam his foot into the back of the Marine's knee causing him to buckle
Ghram place one arm around his throat and looked towards the Main doors as they began to slide open, revealing the incoming Marines.
"What I was saying was, 'I need more time.' " He said as he reached across his chest and pressed his comm unit.
Jose Martinez had never been a very religious person. Though his family was, he had always rejected that part of his upbringing as useless in a way. When he enlisted in the Marines, he dropped nearly all the practices of his family’s religious ways.
And yet, for the last seconds of his life as he lay in the stranglehold of the now obvious traitorous bomber, gagging on the blood that flowed freely from his nose and feeling nearly paralyzed from the knee to his solar-plexus, he wondered if he should make some sort of prayer for forgiveness to whichever deity presided over him.
However, when he saw the doors to the detention control center open up and the first Marines stepping through, all thoughts of religion disappeared as he was hit by an even stronger compulsion to save his comrades, even at the expense of his own life. His vision nearly gone, he scrambled for the one thing that was still within reach that could even give them the slightest advantage in survival.
He grasped his sidearm with this free hand and in the quickest motion he could muster, drew it and brought it up. He thought briefly of trying to turn the pistol on himself and maybe get the man holding him, but there was no guarantee that it would stop the bomb from going off, and there wasn’t enough time to get the gun there anyway.
He lifted the phaser, and in a last desperate act, fired a long sweeping arc at the door.
The beam sparked against the forcefields of the howling prisoners and the bulkheads, and then burned its way across the top of the hatch. True to his thoughts, the Marines immediately stopped their advance and sought cover on the other side of the hatch.
Confident that they were no longer in the direct line of the blast, and that he had slightly tipped the odds of survival in their favor, he began to smile to himself. But before he could, the man holding him smacked the Comm badge, and there was a single whining beep.
There was a deathly light, and a terrible ghastly noise.
And then Corporal Jose Martinez knew only oblivion.
[Main Promenade]
L'kere stood over the rail and watched the countless civilians traveling throughout the promenade. They were completely oblivious to life outside of their own existence. Most were only focused on making it to their next destination without any regard for the power that they contained. The power to never be a victim to galactic politics ever again. How many lives were wasted during the last war, simply because two powers couldn't agree with one another. The time had come for the truth to be revealed.
She reached into her sash and withdrew the object that was going to to set the future into motion. The light began to blink intermittently as she waited to receive the signal from Hartsfield. She looked down at the crowd below and watched as they obliviously walked beneath her.
She stepped to the far edge of the rail and looked downward until she had the attention of the denizens below as they stopped to stare. The object in her hand stopped blinking and remained a solid color. It indicated that her time of sacrifice to the greater cause had finally arrived.
"The most tragic of all, are the fools who choose to disbelief." She said as she reached across her chest and pressed her comm unit.
[All Locations]
The individual containers detonated upon receiving the necessary activation signal. The coordinated explosions ripped through the three locations with concussive force that shook their respective decks. Explosions wracked the levels and caused glass and debris to fly in every direction, regardless of what individuals may have stood by.
The only sound that managed to overcome the forcefulness roar of the explosions were that of the warning Klaxons as they signified that an attack had occurred within the station.
[Cargo bay]
Tral took his finger off the button. He could feel the blast roll through the station. He felt ill. It was one thing to plan an attack, it was quite another to carry it out. He looked over at Hartsfield, the man had a grim look of determination on his face. A defiant sadness.
"We did the right thing didn't we?" he asked of his leader.
Hartsfield took a deep breathe as he felt the vibrations from the explosions. It was the beginning of the end, for many reasons. He looked towards the man and nodded.
"The ends will justify the means, we will see to it." He replied.
OFF
Elliot Hartsfield
Former Commander
NPC
Tral Brosarn
Former Ensign
NPC - Greo Tovon
Corporal Jose Martinez (Deceased)
MP
Played by Colonel Darson
by Alderman Dorian Gabriel & Colonel James Darson & Lieutenant Commander Greo Tovon
Post Details
| Title | Damage | |
| Mission | Unity | |
| Author(s) | Alderman Dorian Gabriel & Colonel James Darson & Lieutenant Commander Greo Tovon | |
| Posted | Mon Jan 18, 2010 @ 5:43pm | |
| Location | Science Lab/Marine Tactical Command/Main Promenade | |
| Timeline | SD 16 - 20:40hrs |
Elliot Hartsfield continued to move amongst the other denizens of the station. He observed them slightly as he continue to make his way towards the designated meeting area. He knew that what he and the other members of his Maquis Cell was going to cause some pain, but it was necessary to liberate them. For too long they had been lied to by the various powers that be. They had been lied to about their destiny and what path it was to follow.
For over a century, the Federation had led its citizens to believe that they were the only "peaceful" alternative throughout the universe. That if it were not for them, their lives would be filled with terror, chaos, and lawlessness. But Hartsfield had learned firsthand how the Federation would abandon those that were considered and "inconvenience" or simply on the wrong side of a negotiation. Hartsfield and those like him were not traitors, they were Patriots.
Hartsfield entered the cargo bay and began to wait for the arrival of his companion.
Tral slipped into the cargo bay, the small case clutched to his chest and a look of concern on his blue features. He had been sneaking from doorway to doorway all the way from Science Lab 1, looking over his shoulder at every step. Sweat dripped from his brow and he nearly ran the last few steps. He stopped by a cargo container and put the case down.
"Jackpot!" He said as he unclipped the lid.
"Very good," Hartsfield said to his companion as he withdrew a small object from his coat and approached his companion.
"I told the techies in the main lab that Lieutenant Tovon wanted them to prepare full reports on the processing of the Dunhamite. Got them all out of there and left me able to pinch this and leave our special gift."
He held up a data device that looked Romulan in origin, but Tral new that deep within it lay great secrets and information all encoded in Federation Standard.
"Good," He nodded. "With the Science Department busy with other endeavours, that will give us enough time to complete our tasks. We all have begun to take the necessary steps to make our presence known." He said as he handed Tral the device that was shaped similarly to a standard starfleet commbadge.
Tral took the device and attached it to the data storage device. As Hartsfield gave him a funny look he explained.
"This is more important to the cause than I am." He looked at the ground embarrassed. "We should be getting ready."
"I am sending the necessary signal to Ensign Ghram within the Marine Tactical Area as well as to L'kere on the Main Promenade. Any questions?" he asked.
"None." Tral replied, pulling his tricorder out ready to send his own signal. "Just let me know when."
[Marine Detention Center]
Ensign Ghram sat in what could only be described as a enlarged box more so than an actual prison cell. He looked over towards the Marine that was designated as his guard and tried to gain his attention.
"Hey! Yeah you! I am a Starfleet Officer! I have rights and I demand to be placed in more HOSPITABLE confines!" Ghram said with much indignation.
The Marine's eyebrow twitched as he tried to ignore the shouting prisoner. After the MP's had scrambled to respond to the Level 4 Security Alert on the promenade, they had arrested a whole crowd of unruly brawlers. Some of the overflow that couldn't fit inside the brig in the Security Suite had been diverted down here, to the Marine Detention Center. And while most of them had seen fit to sit quietly while lawyers could be scavenged up for the civilians (JAG for the Starfleet), this one officer who had apparently been involved in the original fight kept up the yelling.
"Shut it!" He shouted back at him, "You're just as guilty as the rest of these people. So keep quiet, or I'm going to throw your ass in solitary so fast you're head will spin!"
"Oh ho ho ho! Mr. Big Man, Big-bad Marine standing on the OTHER side of the forcefield. I bet if you dropped that field I promise you I'll make you eat your words, along with that chair." He said in a mocking manner.
The Marine let out a low growl at the provocative words, and angrily stalked towards the forcefield. He reached out for the controls and punched in the deactivation sequence. As soon as the field dropped though, the fleetie was off the cot and rushing straight at him. He caught the Marine around the midsection and both of them fell to the deck, his rifle spinning away from him.
Ghram waited for the field to make that familiar spark as it was deactivate before he leapt off of his cot and lunged towards the officer. They rolled on the ground before Ghram was tossed off and into a nearby bulkhead.
The Marine got up quickly with a look of rage on his face as the Starfleet officer groaned on the ground. The other people stuck in the detention center were up and making a ruckus now, shouting up a storm. The Marines outside the cell area would be watching on the security feeds and would be sending backup, at most about 30 seconds away.
So he would have to make the most out of those 30 seconds.
He started to stride confidently over to the man on the ground who was beginning to get his wind back. Instead of going for his rifle, or the pistol at his side, he withdrew the stun baton at his belt and twirled it around while energizing it with a loud buzz.
Ghram crouched onto one knee as he tried to regain his breathe. He knew that to get the maximum effect from the explosion, the doors to the Barrack would have to be open at the time of the detonation. Therefore, he needed to draw this fight out longer.
He saw the larger man coming towards him with the baton slowly increasing in charge. He began to cough violently as he held a hand in protest.
"I. . .need. .." he tried to say in a hoarse tone.
The Marine moved forward and grasped the officer by the arm, prepared to taze him and toss him back in the cell.
Ghram managed to wearily climb to his feet. Just as the Marine proceeded to move towards Ghram to help him back into the cell, Gharm quickly grabbed the man's arm and forcefully slammed his elbow into the bridge of his nose before driving a knee into the Marine's solar-plexus.
The deft maneuver caught the Marine off-guard and allowed Gharm to step behind him and slam his foot into the back of the Marine's knee causing him to buckle
Ghram place one arm around his throat and looked towards the Main doors as they began to slide open, revealing the incoming Marines.
"What I was saying was, 'I need more time.' " He said as he reached across his chest and pressed his comm unit.
Jose Martinez had never been a very religious person. Though his family was, he had always rejected that part of his upbringing as useless in a way. When he enlisted in the Marines, he dropped nearly all the practices of his family’s religious ways.
And yet, for the last seconds of his life as he lay in the stranglehold of the now obvious traitorous bomber, gagging on the blood that flowed freely from his nose and feeling nearly paralyzed from the knee to his solar-plexus, he wondered if he should make some sort of prayer for forgiveness to whichever deity presided over him.
However, when he saw the doors to the detention control center open up and the first Marines stepping through, all thoughts of religion disappeared as he was hit by an even stronger compulsion to save his comrades, even at the expense of his own life. His vision nearly gone, he scrambled for the one thing that was still within reach that could even give them the slightest advantage in survival.
He grasped his sidearm with this free hand and in the quickest motion he could muster, drew it and brought it up. He thought briefly of trying to turn the pistol on himself and maybe get the man holding him, but there was no guarantee that it would stop the bomb from going off, and there wasn’t enough time to get the gun there anyway.
He lifted the phaser, and in a last desperate act, fired a long sweeping arc at the door.
The beam sparked against the forcefields of the howling prisoners and the bulkheads, and then burned its way across the top of the hatch. True to his thoughts, the Marines immediately stopped their advance and sought cover on the other side of the hatch.
Confident that they were no longer in the direct line of the blast, and that he had slightly tipped the odds of survival in their favor, he began to smile to himself. But before he could, the man holding him smacked the Comm badge, and there was a single whining beep.
There was a deathly light, and a terrible ghastly noise.
And then Corporal Jose Martinez knew only oblivion.
[Main Promenade]
L'kere stood over the rail and watched the countless civilians traveling throughout the promenade. They were completely oblivious to life outside of their own existence. Most were only focused on making it to their next destination without any regard for the power that they contained. The power to never be a victim to galactic politics ever again. How many lives were wasted during the last war, simply because two powers couldn't agree with one another. The time had come for the truth to be revealed.
She reached into her sash and withdrew the object that was going to to set the future into motion. The light began to blink intermittently as she waited to receive the signal from Hartsfield. She looked down at the crowd below and watched as they obliviously walked beneath her.
She stepped to the far edge of the rail and looked downward until she had the attention of the denizens below as they stopped to stare. The object in her hand stopped blinking and remained a solid color. It indicated that her time of sacrifice to the greater cause had finally arrived.
"The most tragic of all, are the fools who choose to disbelief." She said as she reached across her chest and pressed her comm unit.
[All Locations]
The individual containers detonated upon receiving the necessary activation signal. The coordinated explosions ripped through the three locations with concussive force that shook their respective decks. Explosions wracked the levels and caused glass and debris to fly in every direction, regardless of what individuals may have stood by.
The only sound that managed to overcome the forcefulness roar of the explosions were that of the warning Klaxons as they signified that an attack had occurred within the station.
[Cargo bay]
Tral took his finger off the button. He could feel the blast roll through the station. He felt ill. It was one thing to plan an attack, it was quite another to carry it out. He looked over at Hartsfield, the man had a grim look of determination on his face. A defiant sadness.
"We did the right thing didn't we?" he asked of his leader.
Hartsfield took a deep breathe as he felt the vibrations from the explosions. It was the beginning of the end, for many reasons. He looked towards the man and nodded.
"The ends will justify the means, we will see to it." He replied.
OFF
Elliot Hartsfield
Former Commander
NPC
Tral Brosarn
Former Ensign
NPC - Greo Tovon
Corporal Jose Martinez (Deceased)
MP
Played by Colonel Darson