What The Hell Is Going On?
Posted on Mon Sep 12th, 2016 @ 1:43am by Marine Captain Quentin Harrison
Mission: Further Challenges
CSAR-171
IN ORBIT OF TIMAEK
Te Marine force was in position to beam down to begin rescue operations. JD Holbridge and his crew would stay in the gunabout and act as forward controller for the rescue force while Quentin and Thomas would beam down with the rescue team, relieving the NGSC operators already engaged....”
“Captain, I'm receiving a transmission from Ambassador Dullea Keir.”
“On screen, boyo” Harrison ordered.
=/\= This is Ambassador Keir, to what do we owe the honor of a Starfleet Marine rescue force?=/\= The image of a striking, middle-aged woman asked.
“Ma'am, me name is Captain Harrison, and we were sent here by order of Major David Lorenz when Starbase 900 received a message sayin' ye were under attack...” Harrison began.
=/\= As you can see, captain, the only attackers here are these hooligans calling themselves Nebula Gold Security Consultants. Is there a commander for these men, or are you in charge of these knuckle-dragging idiots? =/\=
Matt Collins, freshly dressed in battle gear, stepped up to the com. “Madam ambassador, I am Commander Matt Collins, and I am in charge of the NGSC operators. They were acting on the same information the Marines had and we were closer to your embassy.”
=/\= As you can see, commander, there is no conflict here. Please recall your men and leave this area at once or I will be forced to file a formal protest with Starbase 900's diplomatic attache. Keir out=/\=
Collins looked sheepish as he stepped away from the console. “Collins to all operators, stand down.”
USS BANSHEE
John Franklin sat in the command seat, smiling broadly. His plan worked to perfection. The Marines and Jim Holbridge's PMC looked like stumbling, bumbling idiots thanks to his plan. It really was simplicity itself thanks to his commanding officer back on Cardassia. It was a stroke of luck finding that drunken derelict on Deep Space Seven, a pathetic fool swamping plasma injectors for a tenth of the latinum the job was worth. A couple of hot meals, a change of clothes, and a well-placed phaser blast eliminated the human, and now the Cardassian known as John Franklin was ready to initiate the last part of his master plan to destroy James Holbridge.
“Helmsman, move us into position,” Franklin ordered.
The Banshee moved from behind the planetary moon and disengaged her adaptive camouflage shielding. Immediately, the gunabouts and Marine transports adopted a defensive posture. Franklin laughed and opened a channel “An amusing effort, but I think this ship has all of you outgunned, and with your pet artificial intelligence locked out of all essential systems we have complete control of this ship.” Franklin looked at his crew. “Lock onto the Marine transports.”
CSAR 171
Harrison stared in horror as the Banshee came to bear on their position. “Matty, you better pull a rabbit out that magic engineer hat o' yours before yer new ship blows us to kingdom come! JD, shields up!”
“On it, cap'n. Vix get a fix on their weak spots! Oddball, let me know if that thing moves!”
Sgt Thomas came back to assist Matt. “What can I do, Collins?”
“You can plug your cyborg ass into the diagnostic computer and interface with Banshee and find out where the stashed Eddie!” Matt said calmly, typing in code and commands into his console.
“One moment,” Thomas replied, not offended by Collins' insults. “I have located the storage module.”
“This ain't gonna tickle!” Collins said as he tapped the “XQT” tab. Thomas' body immediately jerked as the instructions Matt input, coursed through Thomas' Borg implants. A moment later, Eddie's voice crashed through the com system. “Eddie is back online, Mr Collins. There are several unauthorized persons on board. Initiating anesthezine containment protocols.”
THE BANSHEE
Franklin watched as the anesthetic gas poured into the bridge. He knew this would happen, but the end result was all a part of the plan. He wore a grim smile of triumph as he slid to the deck, unconscious.
TWO HOURS LATER
Franklin moaned and stirred on his cot. He opened his eyes and saw that he was in a holding cell. Turning his head he saw an angry-looking, giant Marine glaring at him. “What's the matter, Harrison, no good books to eat?”
“If ye dinnae shut yer gob, I'll do it for ya permanently!”
“If you do that, then I guarantee you and your friend Holbridge will share a cell!” Franklin grinned.
“What the hell are ye blatherin' about?”
Franklin rose to his feet and stretched. “Your buddy, Holbridge, has a few security issues within his businesses, and if they are uncovered he's going to be ruined!”
“Eddie, mute his cell!” Harrison growled.
=/\= Done, sir. =/\=
“Harrison to Collins, we need to get back to 900 on the double!”
=/\= Understood, we're bringin the last of the Marines aboard and we'll warp out when we're loaded, =/\=
Captain Quentin Harrison
Turnkey
JD Holbridge
CSAR Whiz
Matt Collins
NGSC Mission Commander
Eddie
Back In Control
