Remnants (Part 4 of 5)

Posted on 28 Oct 2016 @ 10:09pm by Rear Admiral Lirha Saalm & Ensign Christopher Parker & Commander Langdale Wiggins & Commander Allyndra illm Warraquim & Lieutenant Min Zhao & Lieutenant Tuula Voutilainen M.D. & Lieutenant JG Noah Khoroushi & Lieutenant JG Rahl Tyton Ph.D. & Ensign Miraj Derani & Ensign Mimi & Chief Warrant Officer 3 Greg Mitchell & Crewman Ezra Koenig
Edited on on 28 Oct 2016 @ 10:17pm

4,187 words; about a 21 minute read

Mission: Episode 12 - Recluse
Location: IKS Neg JoK/Paulson Nebula
Timeline: MD 03 - 0115 hrs

Previously, on Remnants (Part 3)...

Abbey despite all she had been through broke a thin smile, she knew there was not much they could do for her but she tried to help herself up. Instead it turned into more of a drag. At least one ore more rib was broken, two of her fingers pointed in the wrong direction, her right eye was surrounded in blue and black rings and could only open up a fraction. Her clothes were more revealing than she'd like even for her. "Thanks" She said in her current dry raspy voice, the moisture gone hours ago.

Crispin helped move her against the wall. "Not a problem. You'll be right as rain in no time, drinking Mai Tais on Risa. Have you been? Its a magical place?"

And Now, the Continuation...

[ON]

IKS Neg JoK - Detention Cell Alpha

The Klingons threw the security team into the holding cell on the right. All four were thrown in and the forcefield was re-engaged around them. Greg used all of his strength and lunged at the field. He banged his hand on it. "You stupid, purple blooded, son of a bitch! Get back here! Get your Klingon ass back here!

"Chief!"

"I'll kill you, you understand?! I'll kill you!"

"CHIEF!"

Greg stopped and looked behind him. "WHAT?" He yelled.

Rivetti had stood up. Looking at Greg, he quickly responded, "You're not helping. They have us locked tight in here. We need to all calm down."

Greg looked back out the forcefield, slammed his fists into it one more time, then turned around. "Damn it." He kneeled down next to Jacobs and the others. He dropped onto the ground. "Damn it!"

Wilson looked at the wounds on Greg's arm and face for the first time. "Greg, you should get that looked at."

"How Wilson? We are stuck in a cell!" Greg looked around, before turning his attention out the door. "There was someone else in the other cell. Did you see who?"

"I don't know. I wasn't looking" Jacobs responded.

"She had pink hair." Rivetti answered.

"Pink? Ensign Derani?" Wilson asked, looking over at Greg.

"Maybe. Was she moving?" Greg asked.

"I didn't see. Not much if she was." Rivetti responded.

Wiggins came to when he'd been thrown to the floor of the holding cell. He grunted out in pain but was quicker to react than he thought he'd be. He rolled to his back and darted his eyes around the space, noting with a small amount of relief at seeing so many of Galileo's security team looking down at him. He blinked a couple times and unnecessarily shook his head till Greg's face became sharper in focus.

"Commander!" Greg limped over to Wiggins, "Sir, can you hear me? Where are you hurt?"

Wilson moved over to check the Commander, "Where's the Admiral? What happened on the ship? It was salvageable when we left."

"Wilson, we can bombard him with questions later. Check for any wounds."

Wiggins didn't answer any questions. Nor did he say anything right away. Instead he slowly checked and inspected his wounds with Wilson. As he did so, Ezra Koenig leaned in and lowered his voice to Greg. "Admiral's name didn't come up when the pods checked in. We were on the ship long enough to hear her start the self destruct sequence. We can't be certain, but..." His brown eyes looked at Greg hopefully but his face was set in grim acknowledgment of the reality of it.

Satisfied none of his wounds seemed terribly life threatening at the moment Wiggins waved Wilson off and picked himself up off the floor. He wobbled once, but insisted he didn't need assistance.

"Do we have any injured here in the holding cells?" The XO asked.

Greg nodded at Ezra, ignored his own injury and pointed at Jacob's, "He took a disrupter blast to the leg. Wilson and Rivetti have been based up a bit but I think they're ok..."

"Ah, shit. Parker!" Jacob's suddenly said.

"What?" Asked Rivetti.

"Parker's still in the pod. They left him there when we were beamed over."

Greg held his face in his hand, the turned back to the Commander.

"Crewman Parker was another one of my team. He was killed in our first attack on the Klingons. We took his body so we wouldn't leave him behind."

Even though Wiggins' shirt was torn and blackened, and he looked immensely tired, he managed to still hold himself upright. He placed a firm hand on Greg's shoulder, briefly. In just one squeeze he attempted to convey both appreciation for the man's experience, but also condolence for his burden of loss he instinctively sensed in him. Wiggins was not yet as competent a commander of starships as Admiral Saalm, but being an instinctual leader of people, he excelled.

"Act as intake for the time being," Wiggins continued to watch as more people were being brought into the brig area. He scratched the back of his neck casually as he said quietly, "Don't antagonize the Klingons or attempt any violent altercations. Just take in the crew placed here and tend to their care. I want a full count of our people before we plan anything further. Just try and be patient and calm. There will be so many people watching you all for guidance."

"Aye sir," Greg turned to his men, "Wilson, Rivetti. Once you get Jacobs set, check on anyone else who is brought in."

"Got it Chief."

"Oh, also..." Wiggins stopped briefly, but resisted the urge to place his hand on his painful ribs, "I want to know the second Lieutenant Rayze is accounted for---" Wiggins' voice caught in his throat before he hesitated and waited for his voice to be steady. It was always best in times of crisis, he heard his mentors say in his mind, to have an even and steady voice than to have an uncertain one. "If he's accounted for, let me know." He fixed the other man with a knowing look.

Greg nodded. "Aye sir, I'll let you know when I see him. Just take a rest for now." There were two reasons Greg hoped Lt. Rayze would be here. One, he wanted as many of his shipmates as possible to still be alive. And two, Greg hated being in charge of the whole ship's security compliment. This was the second time in the past few days he had to take charge. There was a reason he didn't aim for a commissioned officer rank.

Some time after being carried into the cell by Min and Noah, Mimi gradually regained consciousness groaning as her body came to life again and the throbbing in her head and hips resumed.

Min noticed Mimi stirring, the young cat obviously in distress. Going over she gently held the women down. "Lay still Ensign. You are suffering the effects of a heavy stun and concussion from a rifle butt to the forehead." She motioned to Noah, "Come help me get her sitting up."

Forcing his injured arm to keep moving, Noah clenched his teeth against the pain that seared its way down the limb from shoulder to fingertips. He slipped his good arm behind Mimi's shoulders, levering her up and against the bulkhead. "Easy, Mimi," he murmured through clenched teeth, easing his free hand into his pocket before handing a rumpled handkerchief over to his boss. "For her head," he offered, knowing the woman would be better suited to make use of it as a bandage than he.

"It feels like a Caetus hit me in the head. Did I get that Klingon?" Mimi groggily asked as she reached up to hold her head, she could feel a lump slowly growing around her temple.

"One Klingon is dead by your hand Ensign, Yes. Please don't try that again tho. I suspect you are alive because you amused his comrades, his stupidity at letting his guard down got him killed."

"He isn't going to be the only one." Mimi promised herself. "They deserve nothing less for what they did to the Nekomi."

Min just mentally shook her head. The young officer was in no shape to fight a Klingon and probably wouldn't be for several days at least. "Just rest Ensign." she finally said.

Half the crew - well, less than half if Noah's memory of the roster was accurate - was crammed into a space meant for a fraction of that amount. It dredged up school-time memories of the Black Box of Calcutta and he shuddered inwardly. The Klingons didn't care for the welfare of their prisoners - only what value they could offer, apparently. He could feel the panic inside threatening to break free as the last moments aboard the ship crashed to mind Yasmin isn't here. Yes, there was another cell, and it was possible she had somehow found her way onto a shuttle, but that was neither here nor now.


One hour later...

The stench of Federation blood and weak cries of pain could be heard far outside the two brigs before Ko'raH even approached the chambers. A veteran general with years of war experience, he scoffed at the seemingly-futile and weak pleas for help from those species which he deemed inferior. His path took him slowly around the corner and then to the front of the side-by-side prison chambers where he was quickly flanked by two guards on each side.

Ko'raH was an old Klingon by all respects. His hair was greyed, long, and wavy, and fell across the sides of his cheeks with the elegance of a veteran Klingon general. His garb was eloquent to say the least -- the silver studs of his combat-plated boots and elaborate chest armor were accented by large, spiked wrist-cuffs on each of his forearms. His hands were clad in tight leather which allowed his dark fingertips to show, and a dark crimson cape displaying a unique Klingon insignia billowed behind him before coming to rest down to his ankles when he stopped moving.

He examined his prisoners not so much with scrutiny but more with disdain. How such a weak empire could have possibly turned into one of the quadrant's greatest powers was beyond him, and he showed no hidden emotions regarding his thoughts. He bared his sharp teeth at the crew momentarily before giving a nod to the nearby guard to keep an eye on any unruly prisoners.

"I am General Ko'raH of the House of G'Iogh!" he declared loudly and in a deep, gruff voice. "You failed to heed my warning and comply with my orders... and for this, I have blown your starship to pieces."

"Who is your commander and who speaks for you?" he then demanded.

Before anyone could react, Tuula had pushed herself forward towards the force field and brushed a lock of black and pink hair aside as she looked up at the general. By now, she was looking like a mess. Her usual dark makeup had been smudged, and her uniform was caked with blood and whatnot. "General, I'm not the commander but I am a doctor. Please, let me have my medical supplies so I can treat the wounded, as per section 27 of the Khitomer Accords."

Greg limped over to the force field and leaned onto it. He stared right into the eyes of one of the guards, hate filling him. Hate he hadn't felt since the Romulans incident. "Save your breath, Lieutenant. These assholes just vaporized a Federation ship. I don't think they're playing by the rules." Greg gave the Klingon guard a sarcastic smirk.

Wiggins gently moved those crammed up beside him out of the way enough to step forward. He was very careful to move in such a way as to not show the extent of his injuries. He'd dealt with his share of Klingons, and this one acted much the same as he'd anticipated. His hazel eyes glared the Klingon General down, but also moved to take in Greg to plead for him to be patient. Wiggins tall frame came up beside Tuula. He placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder and lowered his voice at the General and said in the Klingon language, "I am Commander Langdale Wiggins. My lieutenant has asked you a question."

The general crossed his large forearms across his chest, his body armor creaking as the heavy leather stretched to accommodate his movements. He peered at the handicapped Human and then to the one who had identified himself as 'Wiggins the commander'. "I do not answer to your lieutenant," he stated matter-of-factly, "and I do not speak for the Klingon Empire. Your treaties with Qo'noS do not exist aboard my vessels."

Wiggins' eyes narrowed as he took that puzzle piece of information and filed it away for later. "Do codes of honour exist on your vessels?" Wiggins took a step closer to the brig forcefield. "You haven't killed us, so you've taken this crew for ransom or for some other reason of gain. I assume then there is more value in having us alive. To do that, we need to treat our wounded. Now."

Allyndra had managed to come to again and was walking on her own power at the point when they arrived in the Brig section. She noted the General, for she could see the rank, the cloak, the rich armor and the way the warriors excorting her stiffened.

The appeal to honor was probably the only recourse for the Federation crew's pleas for help. And it had been well-played by the half-Betazoid who now found himself in command of a group of Starfleet refugees. The general scoffed at Wiggins' reply as if it didn't matter, but gave the matter a short ponder.

Ko'raH stepped forward towards the forcefield in order to examine his foe with more scrutiny. "...Very well...you will be provided with your 'medical kits' and supplies," he reluctantly conceded. He then held up a closed hand which expanded to point a single finger at Langdale. "But if you ever question my honor again," he made a tight fist, "I will kill you where you stand!"

With a grunt and bark of orders to his guards, the general stepped back from the brig to allow his warriors to bring some of the Federation escape pods' medical supplies forward. The forcefield lowered in both brigs and several crates of triage equipment were slid inside before the fields re-materialized.

"Thank you," said Tuula in a sarcastic tone as the captured medical equipment was provided to her. On top of the crates was a large leather bag with a skull-print on it -- her personal doctor's bag. But as she reached in, for a hypospray, she felt something... fluffy.

Inside the bag were two tribbles, Gilbert and Belle, both paralyzed with fear. Retreating to the back of the cell, she gently pet them, causing them to shiver and coo.

Realizing that a Klingon brig was no place for a tribble, she looked around for some place to hide them. Near the cot was a small air vent with a broken grate, just big enough for a tribble. Gently, she placed the two tribbles inside, tears coming to her eyes. "Hide," she whispered to them, "just run off..."

"Your wounded are weak. Your obsessive compassion for them will always been your downfall. A true warrior should be allowed to die on the battlefield," Ko'raH added with finality and disgust.

Rivetti charged forward and slammed into the forcefield with both fists. "You want to see weak you heartless son-of-a-bitch? Give me a phaser and I'll kill you right now!"

"You're the ones who attacked us! You started this, not us!" Jacobs yelled from the back of the cell.

"I do not think the argument will work here," Allyndra replied. "Let us treat our own." She turned her gaze on the General briefly. "I am also the Chief Medical Officer sir. Thank you for the medkits."

She knew that some of the medkits still had a hypo with the virus that caused Nehret syndrome. The admiral had forbid its use due to the compacts that had been signed but the General had obviously indicated that they were not honouring any such compacts, so she reasoned why should they. She spied Wiggins in the other cell and also Tuula. She would defer to him but the Klingons had just given them a weapon.

That thought hit her, she did not see the Admiral though everyone was packed in. "Where is the Admiral?" Allyndra asked.

Rahl stood near the entrance of the cell. He knew the containment field was there. Hearing the words of the general he raised an eyebrow. "The alliance may have no place here. However, I'm sure that does not go for the rest of your laws and rituals." He took a deep breath and shouted in a loud voice. "Ko'raH of the House of G'Iogh, I challeng you or your first officer to Hay'chu'. If I win...the crew goes unharmed. If I lose..well whatever you do is what you were going to do anyways so it makes no difference. What say you warrior. Will you answer a challenge to combat?"

Greg limped again to the forcefield. "I second that. I want to get my hands on one of these guys myself. Make them really feel pain."

"Chief, you are in no physical condition to..." Wilson protested.

"It's just a scorch to the arm." Greg interrupted. And a sharp head wound, and a possible broken wrist, and a pulled back muscle.... "But I don't just want to sit in here twiddling my thumbs all day."

Ko'raH had already turned his back on the feeble Federation crew and beginning to head towards the nearest turbolift. However, he suddenly stopped mid-stride when he heard the science officer's demand which was followed by that of another Human.

The general turned on his heels, his cape billowing out behind him once again as he marched back towards the brig cells. The heavy metallic thuds of his boots pierced the air before he came to a stop and peered intently at the El-Aurian. He was tall and wirey in stature, but his blue eyes betrayed something honorable which only a lifelong veteran could possess. Ko'raH then looked over towards the yellow-collared security officer who also wanted to participate in defiance.

"You...want to challenge me?" he repeated, a glowing smirk spreading across his lips and exposing his sharp teeth.

Rahl drew himself up to his full height and stared the General right in the eyes. His voice was like steel when he spoke. "There is no want. I did challenge you. However, if you are hard of hearing I'll say it to your face. I challenge you to Hay'chu'. You won't get a better chance then this to try to take revenge against an officer that stood in defiance in the face of both Chancellor Gowron and General Martok at the battle of Deep Space Nine."

Greg looked up at the Klingon who approached him.Holy shit, this guy is much taller than I thought he was. "So...is Hay'chu' a one-on-one thing? Because I don't know if we can both....wait, you were at Deep Space Nine?" Greg asked, getting sidetracked.

Allyndra was surprised that Wiggins had not yet intervened. They had plenty of wounded and injured to attend to. The last thing that they needed was more injured. None were really ready for a fight.

"Stand down!" she raised her voice. "We attend to our own and then we can challenge to honour battles. "

Greg put his hands on his hips, pondering what to do next, before turning to head back into the cell. As he walked back in, he looked at Allyndra, "Actually, ma'am, my plan was to distract him long enough to grab a firearm and then vaporize him. But I guess this works as well."

Rahl shook his head. He kept his eyes on the General though his words were for Allyndra. "A challenge once given cannot be dropped. That is the Klingon way. You can court martial me once we are out of here. You are correct in saying we have wounded to attend to. In this manner I can insure the fact that everyone will live for you to be able to treat them doctor." He focused back on the General. "So what is your answer to the challenge?"

"i have been through one before. While it maybe tradition, is not considered honourable to go to battle with a foe that is already injured. Also," Allydnra waved him closer and then opened her medkit that had come with her. "That hypo contains the causative agent for Nehret syndrome. When the time comes we can coat a blade. When they are sickened and weak then we will be stronger and have a greater chance of success in overpowering our foes."

She smiled showing those sharp inner teeth. "We might have lost the Galileo as a ship, but we will leave this place with the remainder of the crew even if it is in a Klingon ship."

Greg, who had wandered into earshot conveniently, stopped and looked at Allyndra. "Dang, Commander, that's some CIA level stuff there....can I have one?" Greg smiled.

Allyndra turned at the question. "Unfortunately I have only the one hypo that I put in my personal medkit. I am not sure if any of the other medics or medical personnel have their kits or they were removed. It is possible that we could share."

"Allyndra..." whispered Tuula, as soon as she got a spare moment. "I... I think I did something terrible."

"Kill a patient? I seriously doubt beyond that there is anything terrible you could do right now," Allyndra fingered the hypo in her bag like a talisman.

"I think I accidentally created a biological weapon. I didn't mean to, I..." She sniffed and wiped her face. "I found Gilbert and Belle in my medkit. I hid them in the air vents... if they start reproducing..."

Allyndra shook her head. "Not at all, in fact, I hope they do, it is just the kind of distraction that will put a little advantage on our side. The general has said the Kitomer accords do not apply here so...." She made that odd rolling shrug. "I see that we have less restrictions on us as well." Allyndra patted her med kit. "I still have my personal medkit with me, they missed me and I tried to send a distributed help signal. As such my kit still has the hypo containing Nehret syndrome. It is fatal to only Klingons and causes widespread weakness before hand. I shall use it if need be to save this crew."

"Nehret syndrome!?" exclaimed Tuula, careful to keep her voice no louder than a loud whisper. "Whatever happened to 'do no harm'?"

"We also have one other little current secret. Tuula saved her pet tribbles. She has put them into the air shaft. Now I figure it will be at least a day or more before the suppressant will wear off but if they survive and find a food source." Allyndra shrugged. "Well Klingons and Tribbles do not mix well and my guess is that they will in several more days be more busy dealing with a tribble infestation and thus less time to be watching us. Between the tribbles and the possibility of making them deathly sick I think our odds in a few more days will vastly improve."

Greg smiled: "Well that sounds like a good pla...wait. Are those things going to spill into and overcrowd this already crowded cell? Because I am extremely claustrophobic."

"My guess is that the Klingons might be a little more aggressive in their techniques but," Allyndra again showed those sharp teeth. "Tribbles love wiring cover and most likely will consume enough to short out the control to the brig force fields. We just have to have a bit of patience."

To Be Continued...

[OFF]

--

RADM Lirha Saalm
Commanding Officer
USS Galileo

Commander Langdale Wiggins
First Officer
USS Galileo

LTJG Natalya Kirilova
Chief Engineering Officer
USS Galileo

Lieutenant Junior Grade Lenaris Marika
Archaeologist/Anthropologist
USS Galileo

Ensign Ryan Alexander
Operations Officer
USS Galileo

CWO3 Greg Mitchell
Security Officer
USS Galileo

CPO Torgier Naess
Security Officer
USS Galileo

Cmdr Allyndra illm Warraquim
Chief Medical and Second Officer
USS Galileo

PO2 T'Lin
Biochemistry expert
PNPC Warraquim
USS Galileo

Lieutenant Junior Grade Eelim Galan
Security Officer
USS Galileo
(PNPC MacKenzie)

Petty Officer Eviess
Medical Officer
USS Galileo

LT Cmdr Luke Wyatt
Chief Strategic Operations officer
USS Galileo

Lieutenant Junior Grade Amaranai Franklin
Assistant Chief Security and Tactical
USS Galileo

Ensign Miraj Derani
Chief Flight Control Officer
USS Galileo
&
CPO2 Crispin Snow
Operations Officer

and other Galileans...

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