Escape Velocity
Posted on Wed May 20th, 2020 @ 9:55am by Rear Admiral Yoshi Minawara & Isabella Cerin
Mission:
Wrong Place, Right Time
Location: Control Room Below Reactor Six
2100 words - 4.2 OF Standard Post Measure
The lights cutting out was a sudden shock that cost Izzy a moment of inaction before she dove out of the spot she had occupied previously, eager to not give anyone an easy fix on her location. Instead, she stayed low as she felt around in the direction she'd seen the debris pile, and felt the rough, heavy surface of a long piece of discarded scrap metal, carefully pricking her finger on the more jagged end of it to ensure it had a good edge, then pulling it up and herself into a defensive position. Nearby, a section of cables strung up as a clumsy bypass sparked occasionally, providing only the barest and quickest, unpredictable flashed of low level light in the pitch-black room for a moment when they did. The figures in the room were outlined as dim silhouettes for a split-second like a photograph, too quick and disorienting a flash to gather much information. The tiniest glint off the non-skin on the arm of one of them, though, reflecting back the spark whose light fell on it, provided her with what she needed: An answer as to who and where their targets were vs where Yoshi was. She didn't hesitate after that, launching herself towards the nearest other figure, knowing he would be as blinded and disoriented by the darkness and the flashes of light against it as she was. She went in swinging the twisted scrap metal like a mek'leth--and like a duel to the death, out for blood and maximum damage; not the somewhat more genteel sort of duel which the diplomatic corps on Qo'onoS were far more likely to be involved in.
In the confusion Yoshi had tossed his weight against his counter, hitting him hard centre of mass and knocking the pair to the ground. The injured officer would have been no match, all things considered, if it hadn't been for the solid connection of a particularly heavy arm with no control, making direct contact with the hooded man's jaw. As the emergency lights snapped into being, the Commodore rolled off his down victim, trying to steady himself to help Izzy, and instead finding much to his surprise that she was standing over the slumped form of the other guard. Taking a second to collect himself the Commodore stepped away and winced. Adrenaline could help in a moment, but as his racing heart slowed he felt his ribs shifting in ways they shouldn't and his shoulder now sitting at a terrible angle. "Q'onoS?" he asked trying to push a smile. He could feel the sudden sway of time on his body and he was not liking it. Sleep deprivation didn't help. He nodded to the rifle against the wall, the poor bastard hadn't even got to make a grab for it. "I need you to use that," he said, "seeing as... well you know." Moving to the door he listened carefully to the sound of a few pairs of feet rushing past before he nodded. "Small grace, they don't know we were taken from there I bet."
Izzy let the scrap metal, one end now coated in the blood of the guard she'd attacked with it, go and snatched up the rifle in exchange, glad it appeared to be a simple, straightforward model. Still. The only shooting practice she'd ever done had been with a hand weapon, and that wasn't frequent, either. "Just so you know..." She hefted the weapon into what she hoped was an appropriate position, mostly from how she'd seen others hold theirs over the years, another glance at the downed guards before speaking. "...It's highly possible my aim with this thing will be about as bad as a Ferengi holodrama."
"Remember to point anywhere but me, and maybe set it to stun," he replied, slowly opening the door and stepping into the hallway. It was quiet with a few points of dim green emergency lighting illuminating the space. Taking a few steps forward he listened carefully, but hearing no obvious sounds he waved the diplomat to follow. "Now, if you were a poorly designed structure, which way do you think would be out?" The Commodore looked about, and decided that left was probably the most likely of opportunities, all the while hoping they didn't encounter a ladder, which would likely prove to be his greatest challenge at this point. Moving slowly through the hallways, the pair stopped at the intersection and waited, before slowly continuing their journey. Barely above a whisper, Minawara asked, "How're you doing back there?"
"Upright, which is about the best you could say for either of us." Izzy responded in an equally quiet tone. In the low light, she hadn't been able to see the level of damage she'd dealt to the guard, besides the fact that he had ended the encounter unresponsive and unmoving on the ground with his blood coating her improvised weapon, but she knew she hadn't held back in the slightest when she'd gone for him; had aimed her strikes to kill. She'd never killed anyone before, and the idea that she might have now was a cold shiver of raised hair up the back of her neck, for all that the move had been both 'deserved' and necessary. Remembering how she'd steadily felt worse over their time in the complex, though, and the angry red, distorted signaling flashing urgently on the control screen where the radiation warnings would've been, she suspected the root cause of most of how she felt had nothing to do with the guard. "I hate to say it but...if it becomes clear only one of us is going to make it out...I think the one who can has to keep going." Assuming at least some of the colonists weren't in on this stunt, the best chance of survival now was for someone to know about their location. If one of them could escape, even if it meant leaving the other to be potentially killed by their captors in retribution...Well. It was still a better chance at this point than allowing both of them to be retaken.
A dry and heavy chuckle escaped Minawara's mouth. "Don't worry, if you have to leave me behind I won't hold it against you," he said as they stopped at another junction before moving. "Though if you do I need you to leave the rifle with me, I'm not going back without a fight," he added. Though something in the background made him pause as they moved past an air vent. The ever so subtle sound of a small explosion, somewhere above for sure, but echoing through the vents. "You hear that?"
Izzy almost stopped for a moment as if struck with a backhand to the face, at the first response; that he seemed to assume she meant to broach the subject only in regards to her leaving him and not the reverse; but before she could respond he continued. "...Yeah. Hope it's not related to whatever we did to the power system."
"No no, that was too small to be our fault. Those are shaped charges," he stopped and kept trying to listen, letting the deafening silence and dim light be the only filler. But then he heard it, the definite sound of weapons fire. Turning to Izzy, Yoshi whispered quickly, "either there is now an outbreak of infighting, or we might actually walk away from this one." Nodding towards a small utility door he pulled his comrade long into the secluded room. It was tight, definitely not meant for the two of them to have much room, but it would give them some space. "If we're lucky, Rufus is in that group, which will mean us sitting still is the best chance to be found," he added.
"Not that there's room to 'sit'." She sighed wearily. The small closet had one advantage besides the door hiding them; if they each leaned into the corners where they'd wedged themselves, it took some of the weight off without actually sitting or the like, which she suspected they wouldn't necessarily have luck rising from if they tried it. At least she doubted he would, at any rate. "What's the plan when the door opens; if we don't know who's opening it?"
"If they're not in a Federation uniform, stun them," replied the Commodore with a heavy sigh. Leaning against the wall he could really start to study his injuries and mentally shudder. He was in way worse shape than he'd allowed himself to understand. "If they are in a Starfleet uniform, maybe give them a piece of your mind for taking so long." He closed his eyes and felt the exhaustion settle in to remind him of his wear. A yawn escaped his lips and he shook his head to try and keep himself awake. He recognized the signs of shock, a good thing all things considered. "Tell me about Romulus."
The nonsequitur of a subject would have been abrupt, but Izzy recognized it for exactly what it was - a useful focus point to keep him awake and her grounded. "Gorgeous, for starters. They seriously got lucky when they found the place." A hint of sadness of regret crept into her voice for a moment; for the loss of it. "Though even with how relations had thawed a bit between the Federation and the Empire at the time I was there, foreigners were still very restricted in their movements - quite honestly perhaps all the moreso for diplomatic personnel." She grinned ruefully. "Since we had to follow the Romulan rules, and the rules from our own security. And to basically assume every room and everything was bugged by the Tal Shiar. Though my Romulan counterparts tended to assume the same, which led to some interesting ways of conducting business, sometimes. Amazing food, too - some similarities and crossover with Vulcan cuisine and dishes, obviously; but none of the...blandness...that Vulcan cuisine can tend towards; and definitely not vegan. There's a Romulan version of plomeek soup that's like a spicy stew that was amazing with these little spiced puff pastries stuffed with meat and vegetables. Given the levels of intrigue in play though, instructions for Federation personnel stationed there tended to be to scan everything before you ate of drank it." Her face fell into another rueful look. "You actually were required to spend some time in training for the reverse, in a sense, after you finished a posting on Romulus; to try to...de-program...some of the paranoia they'd worked so hard to program into you before they sent you. But at the moment we'd both be in a much better position if I'd kept those habits..."
"And if I had insisted in guards stay with us as per regulations around Flag Officers, they would have done it for us," replied Yoshi in the darkness. "Or if we had had the meetings on the Vesta as Ewan had suggested. Or we'd had food brought down for us, or if we had a third party present, or if we had not stopped here at all," he added, listing off possible events. "Trusting good will is one of the tenants of Starfleet, designed to ensure we do not have people fear us. But that means sometimes we end up here."
"Historically speaking, on a thousand worlds both before and after the advent of space travel...members of my profession who end up "here" tend to end up dead in particularly gruesome ways as messages to, leverage on, or revenge against their governments." She paused for breath. "By getting this far in an escape attempt I've already beaten the average honestly. Though you're right about the trust in good will - If we copied the Romulans or the Klingons, we'd arm our diplomats. As a general rule - select postings like Qo'onoS notwithstanding - we don't. Sends the wrong message on what the Federation is trying to accomplish."
There was a stop gap in the conversation which was accented by the sound of concentrated weapons fire not far off, accented by calls of confusion and aggression. This was not the organized calls of someone who thought it through, or was trained for combat, but the sound made by every idiot that figured themselves a war hero. The fact there was no calls back meant only one group could be behind the returned fire. "I feel our hosts are about to find out exactly what the Federation will do though, when push comes to shove."
