U.S.S. Sentinel - 11410.27, Mission #18

"Layover"


Summary, Mission #18

 

The Sentinel is docked awaiting two weeks of repairs, the crew go about their work with an air of lethargy, trying to extend what should be a quick two day stop into fourteen days of activities. Some have elected to continue working, others take shore leave, and the holodecks are seeing an increased amount of usage. All in all, it's going to be a slow few weeks at Starbase 157.

 

<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<< Begin Mission >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

 

<TAC_Cdt_Rilu>

@::stepping into the turbo lift as it springs to life::

 

<CMO_Cmdr_York>

#::downs another shot of tequila and slams the empty shotglass down on its head, then grins at the Cardassian sitting opposite him at the bar::

 

<CSO_LtJG_Hret>

::tapping away, catching up on his reports....almost as if he hadn't done them for weeks.::

 

<MED_Ens_Sarissa>

:: looks around a sparkly clean morgue with some small amount of pride :: Self: I guess that OCD didn't go unused, after all. At least I finally got that dust bunny!

 

ACTION: The Morgue practically twinkles with cleanliness.

 

<CMO_Cmdr_York>

#::watches the Cardassian pick up his 12th shooter, his hand attempting to keep from spilling the drink::

 

<SCI_Ens_Hamlet>

@::Is standing on the bridge still looking over the reports of the spatial anomalies that caused the equipment to disappear. He turns around to see the bridge is completely empty:: Self: I cannot be the only one on bridge duty today.

 

<TAC_Cdt_Rilu>

@::Steps out of turbolift onto the bridge, looks around momentarily as confusion lurches across his face. No one is on the bridge, the life support system softly humming:: ALL:Hello? Captain? Hamlet? Alright guys, if this is a surprise you missed my birthday by 3 months!

 

<NAV_LtCmdr_Marsland>

#::wakes up with very few clothes on, wrapped in a complete stranger on the station:: Self: Wha the….?

 

ACTION: The Morgue twinkles extra hard.

 

<CMO_Cmdr_York>

#::the Cardassian headbutts the table, sending empty glasses flying onto the floor::

 

ACTION: Hamlet and Rilu turn to face eachother, everyone else on the bridge disappearing around them.

 

<NAV_LtCmdr_Marsland>

#::grins to himself as he extricates himself from his fling, grabbing his clothes and getting dressed::

 

<TAC_Cdt_Rilu>

@::Sees Hamlet:: SCI: Hamlet? The hell is going on? What did you give me to drink last night?

 

<CSO_LtJG_Hret>

::Humming to himself as he files yet another report, all feels right with the world.::

 

<CMO_Cmdr_York>

#::grabs the six slips of Latinum off the table and rustles the Cardassian's head:: Gul: See you next time spoonie.

 

<SCI_Ens_Hamlet>

@::Looks at Rilu:: TAC: I was going to ask you the same thing.

 

<CMO_Cmdr_York>

#::stands up without much difficulty and makes his way over to the bar and picks a decently clean stool to sit on:: Barkeep: Hey sparky, large ale.

 

<MED_Ens_Sarissa>

:: sits down on a random biobed and starts swinging her feet a bit. :: Self: Well, I guess it's time for some exploration.

 

<SCI_Ens_Hamlet>

@Comp: Computer, locate the Captain.

 

@ACTION: The computer doesn't respond.

 

<TAC_Cdt_Rilu>

@::Walks over to the tactical station:: SCI: Im going to run a full internal sensor sweep. Something is not right here. ::A smile crosses his face as he lets out a chuckle::

 

<OPS_Lt_Baudin>

::at his station, having apparently heard none of Hamlet and Rilu's conversation. and doesn't seem to acknowledge them at all. in fact, he frowns (harder than usual) at a notation popping up.::

 

<CMO_Cmdr_York>

#::slips the bartender some Latinum:: Barkeep: And a round for everyone, on me.

 

<OPS_Lt_Baudin>

aNAV: Seems like someone had too much fun to bother coming back on duty on time. ::shakes his head::

 

<Sparky>

#CMO: You're the only one here....it's morning...

 

<TAC_Cdt_Rilu>

@::Continuing to chuckle:: We would be the only ones on the whole damn ship.

 

<CSO_LtJG_Hret>

::Taps his combadge.:: *SCI*: Ensign Hamlet, I am pleased to report that I've completed my backlog of reports. My appologies for keeping you from enjoying your leave, feel free to put the first round on my credit.

 

<CMO_Cmdr_York>

#::shrugs and sips of his ale:: Sparky: More for me then. Now...go clean a glass or something.

 

ACTION: H'ret's comm is dead, there's no link to the other site.

 

<SCI_Ens_Hamlet>

@::Moves over to the captains chair, and opens a comm to the department heads:: ALL: Could all department heads please come to the bridge.

 

<NAV_LtCmdr_Marsland>

#::slips out of the quarters of his green-skinned night o’ fun, giving her one last kiss on the cheek::

 

<TAC_Cdt_Rilu>

@::Tapping on the HUD. Loud beeping:: SCI: Okay, so the computer is locked, none of my codes are working! ::Slams fist on panel::

 

<OPS_Lt_Baudin>

Computer: Computer, are Officers Rilu or Hamlet aboard the ship currently?

 

ACTION: The panel on the Captain's Chair is locked and dead, no answer.

 

<Computer>

OPS: Negative, Officers Rilu and Hamlet are not onboard the ship.

 

<SCI_Ens_Hamlet>

@TAC: Ilus, something ain't right my lad.

 

<MED_Ens_Sarissa>

:: watches as a crewman stumbles into sickbay, drunk and running into everything in there :: Crewman: Sorry, no hangover remedies here! You were the one stupid enough to get that drunk in the first place!

 

<NAV_LtCmdr_Marsland>

#::groggily:: *Station Computer*: Report repair status on the USS Sentinel.

 

<TAC_Cdt_Rilu>

@::Shakes head:: SCI: Hammy I think you may be right, We are totally locked out of every system.

 

<CMO_Cmdr_York>

#::yawns, then shakes his head to clear the cobwebs and takes another sip of ale.....been way too long since he got away from work::

 

<CSO_LtJG_Hret>

::Frowns slightly as he waits for a response by the com.::  ::Taps his combadge again.:: *SCI*: Ensign Hamlet, are you receiving me?

 

<Computer>

#NAV: Repairs on the U.S.S. Sentinel are currently under advisement and are not scheduled to begin for twelve hours, fourty-six minutes.

 

<OPS_Lt_Baudin>

::leans in to aNAV again with a sigh:: aNAV: Well, the captain might go lenient on them. Two whole weeks here? Not much for us to do here on the bridge.

 

ACTION: H'ret's comm still doesn't go through, his badge chirping once more with a failed connection

 

<aNAV_Banks>

::tries to stifle a yawn, then nods:: OPS: It's not exactly riveting theatre.

 

<SCI_Ens_Hamlet>

@Comp: Computer ::Raises his index finger at Rilu:: Locate ensign Rilu

 

<CSO_LtJG_Hret>

::Taps his combadge again, starting to become concerned.:: *TAC*: Ensign Rilu, do you read me?

 

@ACTION: There is no response to Hamlet's request

 

<NAV_LtCmdr_Marsland>

#::Taps his commbadge again:: *Sentinel*: NAV to Sentinel. One to beam aboard.

 

<TAC_Cdt_Rilu>

@Comp: Computer: Locate Ensign Hamlet. Hell, is there anyone on the ship?

 

<OPS_Lt_Baudin>

*NAV*: One to beam, aye. Welcome back, commander. ::locates Marsland to beam back::

 

<SCI_Ens_Hamlet>

@TAC: Are we even on the ship?

 

ACTION: Marsland disappears in a flash of silvery blue, reappearing a short moment later back onboard the Sentinel in the transporter room, a cheery greeting from the transport chief.

 

<TAC_Cdt_Rilu>

@SCI: It looks like it, if we aren't then where are we? ::Shakes Head:: SCI: Could something have happened last night?

 

<NAV_LtCmdr_Marsland>

::smiles as he materializes:: Chief: Good to see you again. Anything fun going on?

 

<Chief_B'ala>

::shakes her head and grins:: NAV: No, sir. This has been the most excitement I've seen since my shift started.

 

<CMO_Cmdr_York>

#::pulls his personal communit from his pocket and checks his messages, nothing from Lee yet. It's like he goes away for a few months, doesn't write, and she just forgets about him?::

 

<NAV_LtCmdr_Marsland>

::nods:: Chief: Just the way I like it.

 

<CSO_LtJG_Hret>

::Taps his combadge again, working it over good.:: *OPS*: Hret to Lt. Baudin, I believe we may have a situation. I am unable to hail either Ensign Hamlet or Rilu.

 

<CSO_LtJG_Hret>

Computer: Computer, locate Officers Rilu and Hamlet.

 

<NAV_LtCmdr_Marsland>

::walks out of the transporter room:: *CMO*: Commander York, I would like to discuss your bedside manner. Do you have time at the moment?

 

<OPS_Lt_Baudin>

*CSO*: They aren't on the ship. They're late to the bridge.

 

<Computer>

CSO: Officers Rilu and Hamlet are not onboard the ship.

 

<SCI_Ens_Hamlet>

@TAC: It wouldnt be the first time something like this has happened. It's my first, but it's definetly happened before.

 

<CSO_LtJG_Hret>

Computer: Computer, what were Ensign Rilu and Ensign Hamlets last know locations?

 

<OPS_Lt_Baudin>

*CSO*: I imagine they might be recovering from a rowdy night out. I might alert station security if they don't get here soon.

 

<TAC_Cdt_Rilu>

@::Shakes head in disbelief:: SCI: I'm sorry Hammy, did I hear you just say this isn't the first time?

 

<Computer>

CSO: Their last known location is Starbase 157, Section 12, Level 14.

 

<MED_Ens_Sarissa>

Self: Okay, I have got to do something... Computer, directions to... uh... What's the bar here called?

 

<CMO_Cmdr_York>

#::taps his commbadge:: *NAV*: Not really no. Leave. Things to do.

 

<SCI_Ens_Hamlet>

@::Sits down in the captain's chair, and begins trying to access the database:: TAC: There definetly presedence for it.

 

<SCI_Ens_Hamlet>

@TAC: No doubt one of the Enterprises

 

<Computer>

MED: The Bulwark is located on Deck 8, Forward Section.

 

<NAV_LtCmdr_Marsland>

*CMO*: We'll see about that. Marsland out.

 

<NAV_LtCmdr_Marsland>

*Computer*: Locate Ensign Sarissa.

 

<OPS_Lt_Baudin>

*CSO*: In fact, let me just do that now. I have some other business with the boys on the station as it is. We'll find them. ::hails the station, nothing like a rousing chat between fellow busy-but-bored OPS officers, right?::

 

<Computer>

NAV: Ensign Sarissa is in the Morgue.

 

<CMO_Cmdr_York>

#::shrugs:: Self: Rynia never complained about my bedside manner. Damn I should have said that.

 

<MED_Ens_Sarissa>

Computer: Okay, thanks! :: gets up from biobed and attempts to find her way to a turbolift ::

 

<CSO_LtJG_Hret>

*OPS*: perhaps....but I find it odd that they're both missing....Lets hope the station can clear the mystery up.

 

ACTION: The station OPS comes up on the viewscreen on the bridge.

 

<NAV_LtCmdr_Marsland>

::blinks:: *MED*: Navigator to Medical Officer. Do you have a moment to speak?

 

<aOPS_Sheen>

#*OPS*: This is Starbase 157, Chief of Operations Charles Sheen.

 

<TAC_Cdt_Rilu>

@SCI: I had always heard stories about the misadventures of the Enterprises, but I thought they were just that. Stories. On Bajor we don't have anything like this happen. ::Throws hands in the air:: SCI: Do you think we could be sharing a consciousness?

 

<MED_Ens_Sarissa>

*NAV*: Uh, aye sir. Do you need anything? :: silently sweats and tries not to show it as she walks by a pair of lieutenants ::

 

<OPS_Lt_Baudin>

*aOPS*: Good morning, Chief Sheen. Hope our crew has not been giving you too much trouble.

 

<NAV_LtCmdr_Marsland>

*MED*: I do. Where can we meet?

 

<SCI_Ens_Hamlet>

@TAC: Phase cloaks, shared consciousness, hyperreality.......

 

ACTION: As SCI and TAC blink, the bridge they're standing on suddenly becomes scorching hot desert, the air dry and arid, the temperature skyrocketing within moments.

 

<MED_Ens_Sarissa>

*NAV*: Well, I'm on my way to the Bulwark right now, sir. If I can ever find a turbolift...

 

<CMO_Cmdr_York>

#::empties his beer and motions for Sparky to refill the glass::

 

<aOPS_Sheen>

#::smiles and waves his hand dismissively:: *OPS*: Not at all, Sentinel. It's been a quiet evening.

 

<NAV_LtCmdr_Marsland>

*MED*: I'll meet you there. But if you can think of some awesome medical reason to recall your boss to the ship, and even better put him in quarantine, do so on your way. ::starts heading towards a turbolift::

 

<TAC_Cdt_Rilu>

@::Shielding eyes:: SCI: Uh, Hamlet. What just happened? ::Reaching down to touch the sand:: SCI: It's real.

 

<SCI_Ens_Hamlet>

@::Looks around as everything around him and Rilu changes.:: TAC: And now apparently, we're on Vulcan or sumin'

 

<OPS_Lt_Baudin>

*aOPS*: Sorry to be such a bother, but at least two of Sentinel's crew are being particularly slow on getting back to their assigned posts. Of course, we hope they are only nursing hangovers, but it would be much appreciated if you could spare a security officer or two to go looking.

 

<MED_Ens_Sarissa>

*NAV*: Um, aye sir... I'm not sure I can think of one... ::manages to find a turbolift and get in :: Computer: Deck 8

 

<aOPS_Sheen>

#::nods with his lazy smile:: *OPS*: Of course, Sentinel. Send me their comm badge codes and we'll begin scouring the bars.

 

<NAV_LtCmdr_Marsland>

*MED*: I’m sure you can. Consider it a personal favor to the entire Navigational Department, Ensign. Marsland out.

 

<SCI_Ens_Hamlet>

@TAC: It could be a simulacra

 

<TAC_Cdt_Rilu>

@SCI: But it even smells like the Desert. This feels like more than any Hologram.

 

<MED_Ens_Sarissa>

Self: Oh, what did I sign aboard for! Take the Soveriegn-class, they said. It'll be fine, they said. :: beats head against turbolift wall ::

 

<OPS_Lt_Baudin>

::sends those over:: *aOPS*: Great help. And, hey, since I have you on the line...

 

<CMO_Cmdr_York>

#::picks up his beer and takes a sip, wondering how long he has on this station before being pulled away for duty::

 

<CSO_LtJG_Hret>

::Decides to wait for answers at his post on the bridge, tucking his padd under his arm and pads to the TL.:: TL: Bridge.

 

ACTION: The Turbolift rings with a hollow gong on every head banging::

 

<NAV_LtCmdr_Marsland>

::steps off on Deck 8, headed for the Bulwark and Ensign Sarissa:: Computer: Locate the Captain and Executive Officer.

 

<aOPS_Sheen>

#::sends the relevant information to the security department:: *OPS*: Of course, Sentinel. What's on your mind?

 

<SCI_Ens_Hamlet>

@::Begins to feel the heat a bit:: TAC: I know. A simulacra is a copy of something that either never had a reality, or has no original.

 

<MED_Ens_Sarissa>

:: finds the Bulwark and steps in, taking a seat at a random table near the door, constantly fidgeting ::

 

<Computer>

NAV: Captain Yeremenko and Commander Stradiot are onboard Starbase 157, JAG's office, Level 41 Section 7.

 

<TAC_Cdt_Rilu>

@::Wipes the sweat from his forehead:: SCI: I guess that's why you're the science officer.

 

<OPS_Lt_Baudin>

*aOPS*: Any chance you might be able to fill me in on what the holdup is? I know, I know, stations get busy, and this is not the friendliest territory, but a patch-up and resupply over two weeks?  Seems excessive to me. ::waves a hand aside:: Not that I'm about to tell you how to do your job.

 

<NAV_LtCmdr_Marsland>

::walks in, looking for the Medical Officer::

 

<SCI_Ens_Hamlet>

@TAC: Oh Fook science for the moment, we need to get out of the sun. I take it Bajorans arent used to the heat?

 

<MED_Ens_Sarissa>

:: spots Marsland walking in :: NAV: Sir, what's all this about? I mean... what happened?

 

<NAV_LtCmdr_Marsland>

Computer: Report the names of Senior Staff not on the ship at this time. ::holds a hand up, waiting for a reply::

 

<TAC_Cdt_Rilu>

@::Chuckles:: SCI: No not at all. We may not be very useful in the heat, but at least we aren't Andorians! ::Breaks into laughter for a few moments. Then he finds his composure::

 

<CSO_LtJG_Hret>

::Steps off the TL and moves to his station, nodding to OPS as he passes.::

 

<NAV_LtCmdr_Marsland>

MED: Just a little good fun between departments, Ensign. Are you sure you can’t help?

 

<TAC_Cdt_Rilu>

@::Clears throat:: SCI: But yes, I agree we need to get out of this heat.

 

<SCI_Ens_Hamlet>

@::Pats the young man on the shoulder, as he looks up at the sun in the sky, trying to determine the best direction to find shade::

 

<MED_Ens_Sarissa>

NAV: Um, not unless you want me to lie...

 

@ACTION: The heat seems to intensify, waves of it shimmer off the dunes in the distance, twin suns burning in the sky above.

 

<aOPS_Sheen>

#::tilts his head back and forth:: *OPS*: It's a few things. We've got some teams out and...uhh....some parts are waiting to come in or have been assigned to different work orders. You know how it is.

 

<TAC_Cdt_Rilu>

@::Looks to the horizon and points:: SCI: Hamlet do you see those mountains over the horizon?

 

<CMO_Cmdr_York>

#::picks up a barmenu and reads from it:: Sparky: Sparky....one Subspace tender....extra bacon. And another beer. This one's almost done.

 

<NAV_LtCmdr_Marsland>

::looks across the table at her:: MED: That's exactly what I was hoping you'd do, Ensign. But I can handle this, if you'd prefer. Want to see a pro do it?

 

<SCI_Ens_Hamlet>

@::Squints his eyes at the horizon:: TAC: Aye, they look to be a fair walk away. But it dunni half beat just waiting to die here

 

<MED_Ens_Sarissa>

NAV: Well, I did hear about this one trick... Maybe a surprise transport? He can't be too hard to lock onto. :: silently enjoys revenge for cleaning the morgue ::

 

<CSO_LtJG_Hret>

::Tap patiently, waiting for some news of the missing Officers, doing breathing exercises to maintain a calm demeanor.

 

<NAV_LtCmdr_Marsland>

MED: Where shall I put him?

 

<CMO_Cmdr_York>

#::takes a deep breath as the bacon sizzles on the grill::

 

<OPS_Lt_Baudin>

*aOPS*: But surely you're equipped to handle the workload.  There must be thirty ships hovering around or docked, but that cannot be too much more than you are used to. ::leans back in his seat, arms lightly crossed:: All those teams of yours are busy for the next week and a half? This sort of thing would usually only take a few days. We don't mind the shore leave, but...

 

<TAC_Cdt_Rilu>

@::Begins to walk towards the distant blue mountain range:: SCI: Now is as good a time as any.

 

<aOPS_Sheen>

#::signs with exhasperation, the extra time he fit into the schedule suddently starting to seem like a hassle now that people are asking him about it:: *OPS*: Look....Let me see what I can move around. How does that sound, huh?

 

<CSO_LtJG_Hret>

OPS: Just a thought, but we have their last position, perhaps a security team can head there, look for anything out of the ordinary?

 

<SCI_Ens_Hamlet>

@::Takes his uniform jacket off and wraps it around his head, and beings walking toward the mountains with Rilu::

 

<MED_Ens_Sarissa>

NAV: ::grins:: Maybe in the brig? I dunno, just a thought.

 

<NAV_LtCmdr_Marsland>

::rises:: MED: Come with me, Ensign.

 

ACTION: A group of figures appear at the top of a dune ahead of Hamlet and Rilu, the heat haze making them shimmer in and out of view,

 

<MED_Ens_Sarissa>

:: follows :: NAV: Aye sir.

 

<NAV_LtCmdr_Marsland>

::heads for the transporter room he came from, at a brisk jog::

 

<SCI_Ens_Hamlet>

@Strangers: Excuse me ?

 

<SCI_Ens_Hamlet>

@TAC: Be on your guard lad.

 

<NAV_LtCmdr_Marsland>

::Walks into the transporter room:: Chief: Heya Chief, I need a favor. You up for it?

 

ACTION: The figures begin walking towards the two Officers, each wearing a simple tunic and pants made of patches of fabrics in greys and browns and whites, in their hands are long bladed weapons with tassels hanging from the butts

 

<Chief_B'ala>

NAV: Am I! I've ran three diagnostics today just for something to do.

 

<CMO_Cmdr_York>

#::picks up his beer and sits back in his seat, waiting for the...whatever he ordered and takes a sip::

 

<TAC_Cdt_Rilu>

@SCI: Those guys don't look like they're out for an easy stroll. ::Bends down and pulls a small blade from his boot, puts it in his sleeve::

 

<SCI_Ens_Hamlet>

@::Moves up ahead of Rilu:: TAC: No they do not. Dont do anything that may appear hostile....No' yet

 

<Stranger>

@SCI: Bohu t'ah nahala, disnu'te!

 

@ACTION: The lead figure steps forward as he speaks.

 

<NAV_LtCmdr_Marsland>

Chief: I'm going run a drill on the ship, give the crew some practice getting to battlestations. Beam Commander York directly to the morgue. In particular, to one of the… receptacles. That work for you? ::smiles at Ensign Sarissa::

 

<OPS_Lt_Baudin>

*aOPS*: All I ask is that you give it a shot and let us know if you can bump us up in the schedule. Sorry to be a bother. Oh, and if you find my crewmembers' commbadges but not them, could you tell your security team to start at Section 12, Level 14? If they need to do a physical search.

 

<TAC_Cdt_Rilu>

@::Counts 7 well armed men::

 

<SCI_Ens_Hamlet>

@::Raises his hands up, gestures in basic sign that he doesnt understand:: Stranger: I canni understand you.

 

<MED_Ens_Sarissa>

:: grins :: NAV: Aye sir. I'll head there now to record the reaction.

 

<CSO_LtJG_Hret>

::Starting to wonder if this station chief knows what he's doing.::

 

<Chief_B'ala>

::grins steadily wider, then nods:: NAV: As long as your authorisation is on the order, I'm good to go, sir!

 

<SCI_Ens_Hamlet>

@TAC: I'm assuming your UT isnt working either?

 

<aOPS_Sheen>

@<Stranger>: ::sounds a lot more agitated:: SCI: Bohu t'ah nahala, disnu'te! Disnu'te do's barak!

 

<NAV_LtCmdr_Marsland>

::smiles:: Chief: It is. MED: Contact me when you’re in position.

 

<MED_Ens_Sarissa>

NAV: Aye sir! :: sprints out of the transporter room, trying to remember the way back to Sickbay ::

 

<NAV_LtCmdr_Marsland>

*OPS*: Lieutenant, this is a drill. Sound Red Alert, intruder in Main Engineering! Again, this is a drill. Begin recall of all personnel save the XO and Captain.

 

<TAC_Cdt_Rilu>

@SCI: Not in the slightest. ::Slips a small blade into Hamlet's hand. Speaks softly:: SCI: Just to be safe.

 

<Chief_B'ala>

::runs a quick scan, picks up the CMO's comm badge ID and gets a target lock:: NAV: Ready when you are, sir.

 

<NAV_LtCmdr_Marsland>

::nods:: Chief: Just a moment.....

 

<SCI_Ens_Hamlet>

@::Hides the blade in his trousers. Pushes his hands down, and begins speaking in a midler tone:: Stranger: Calm down, we're no' hostile. ::Pulls up his sleeves:: See, no weapons.

 

<MED_Ens_Sarissa>

*NAV* I'm in the morgue, sir! :: blesses the Elements that she managed to remember the way back ::

 

<OPS_Lt_Baudin>

::alarmed, jumps in his seat and shoots CSO a confused look--it's not time for any scheduled drills...:: *aOPS*: Thanks for the help have to go Sentinel out. ::cuts the line and begins the 'drill' red alert and recall::

 

<Stranger>

@::notices the movement, his eyes widening beneath his hood:: SCI/TAC: Das barak on'o ala disnu'te! ::spins his blade in one hand then swings it scross, aiming for Hamlet's chest::

 

<CSO_LtJG_Hret>

::Frowns slightly, sets his station for red alert conditions, securing the computer core and setting internal sensors to scan for intruders.::

 

<NAV_LtCmdr_Marsland>

::chuckles:: *MED*: Aye, just a moment....

 

<SCI_Ens_Hamlet>

@::Doesnt flinch, just stand stoicly, not reacting to the strangers obviously hostile movement::

 

<OPS_Lt_Baudin>

*NAV*: Something you want to fill me in on, sir?

 

ACTION: The blade slices Hamlet across the chest, cutting deep, scoring the touch Klingon bones and shearing through heavy muscle.

 

<NAV_LtCmdr_Marsland>

*OPS*: Never a time like the present for crew readiness, Lieutenant, that’s all. Figured the first day on station would be better, get the drill out of the way, then cut people out on shore leave. Sound good to you?

 

<TAC_Cdt_Rilu>

@Stranger: Now now, you may not want to do that! ::Reaches for the blade hidden in his sleeve but does not pull it:: Stranger: We are Starfleet officers, and my friend here is a Klingon. He doesn't take kindly to that and neither do I. ::Grits his teeth as his muscles tense::

 

<NAV_LtCmdr_Marsland>

::nods at the Chief:: Chief: Energize. ::takes off running for Sickbay::

 

ACTION: The other figures stream forwards, raising their own weapons and attacking the two men ruthlessly, bladed spears swinging in high and low, darting and slashing and stabbing

 

<CMO_Cmdr_York>

#::feels the tightening of the containment beam before the shimmering effect appears before his eyes:: Self: What the hell?

 

ACTION: The CMO rematerialises inside one of the Morgue's storage pods. Thankfully, it's an empty one.

 

<MED_Ens_Sarissa>

:: stand in the morgue, grinning rather happily as she watches Cmdr York materialize :: Self: It's a good day to be an ensign.

 

<SCI_Ens_Hamlet>

@::Roars, as he grabs the assailants weapon, and uses it to drag him closer. Grabbing the man by the throat, he throws the weapon behind::

 

<CMO_Cmdr_York>

::feels trapped as he materializes somewhere else and tries to looks for a way out:: Self: HELLO? ::tries to move his hands but is unable to raise them::

 

<NAV_LtCmdr_Marsland>

::runs in, a few moments after Commander York materializes, with a huge grin on his face::

 

<TAC_Cdt_Rilu>

@::Jumping back and pulling the blade:: SCI: Well I guess they want a fight! :: Parries a few swings and slices back striking 2 of the men:: SCI: Let em have it!

 

@ACTION: The stranger is flung away, but a second thrusts a spear straight in afterwards, the heavy blade taking Hamlet in the gut, piercing him almost the entire way through and severing the base of his spine.

 

<MED_Ens_Sarissa>

NAV: Rather funny, isn't it.

 

@ACTION: Rilu takes a first down, his strike aiming true and taking the figure in the upper arm while a third takes a swing for the Bajoran man's stomach as well.

 

<CSO_LtJG_Hret>

::Shakes his head slightly.:: OPS: Odd timing for a drill...

 

<TAC_Cdt_Rilu>

@:: Yells with rage:: SCI: Hamlet!

 

<CMO_Cmdr_York>

::screams angrily:: All: TOM!

 

<SCI_Ens_Hamlet>

@::Falls his knees, as his legs no longer work, but taking the one in his hand with his, crushing his throat::

 

<MED_Ens_Sarissa>

:: chuckles :: NAV: Maybe someone should let him out...

 

<CMO_Cmdr_York>

::tries to wiggle, hoping to reach the safety::

 

<NAV_LtCmdr_Marsland>

::calmly taps his commbadge:: *Sentinel*: Crew of the Sentinel, secure from the drill. The … intruder… has been subdued. Stand down Red Alert.

 

<SCI_Ens_Hamlet>

@TAC: Run LAD!!!

 

<OPS_Lt_Baudin>

*NAV*: ...Aye sir. ::cancels red alert::

 

<SCI_Ens_Hamlet>

@::Removes the knife from his trousers, and prepare for a final stand....so to speak::

 

<NAV_LtCmdr_Marsland>

::hits the release on the storage vessel, a huge grin on his face::

 

@ACTION: Rilu blocks the first blow, and the second, but the third slips through and takes him in the side, sliving upwards and opening him up from hip to shoulder leaving his guts to spill steaming onto the ground.

 

<MED_Ens_Sarissa>

CMO: Having fun, sir?

 

<CMO_Cmdr_York>

::gasps for air, then looks up at Tom's face and launches himself out of the coffin at him::

 

<OPS_Lt_Baudin>

CSO: So that was odd. I could not tell you what that was about. But this Sheen fellow at ops, I don't trust him. See if you can't locate our missing Officers on the station, see if their comm signatures light up.

 

<SCI_Ens_Hamlet>

@TAC: NOOOOOOOO!!!! ::Grabs the pole weapon, and makes wild animalistic swings at the assailants::

 

<CSO_LtJG_Hret>

::Nods and starts a scan of the station for the missing Officers, starting with their last know location.::

 

<TAC_Cdt_Rilu>

@::Throws his knife at the man spearing Hamlet :: SCI: I can't just leave you! We were just starting to have fun ::Pulls back, standing up feeling the sting of a spear. Reaches for the spear, grabs it and then falls to the floor::

 

<MED_Ens_Sarissa>

:: backs up quickly :: Self: And it's about to go down. I'm not patching anybody up!

 

<NAV_LtCmdr_Marsland>

::jumps out of the way:: CMO: Time to discuss what I wanted to now, Commander? You -really- should come back to the ship when a drill is called away.

 

ACTION: The remaining three figures takes Hamlet down, pinning his body to the ground bleeding and peppered with wounds. As the two Starfleet Officers die, their last vision is of a man standing nearby, a tricorder in his hands watching them.

 

<CMO_Cmdr_York>

::reaches for Tom's collar and throws him out of the Morgue:: NAV: You are damn lucky I promised I wouldn't hit you this time.

 

<TAC_Cdt_Rilu>

@Self: But...The.. Prophets...

 

<SCI_Ens_Hamlet>

@::Tries to crawl to Rilu, but dies before he can get to him. His last thoughts of the family he's leaving behind::

 

<CMO_Cmdr_York>

::looks angrily over at the MED: MED: And who the hell are you?

 

ACTION: Rilu dies anyway.

 

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