02-19-2025, 09:21 PM
Lying supine, drifting in between dreams and brief moments of consciousness, there were periods of regret that jostled for attention. There had been several well thought out plans, but the one that was chosen hadn’t been his first pick. It wasn’t even his second or third. However, it was the stealthiest, and that is what Starfleet Security Command had wanted. An easy way for an operative to gather intel, avoid detection, and then get out to provide concrete evidence of what exactly was transpiring. It was something Nathan would have done for SecCom regardless. What Ramius couldn’t do was lie to himself about why he enthusiastically volunteered in the end. Echoes from the past tugged at him, pulling him closer to the very real danger of being caught while intelligence gathering.
At least I am doing it right this time. This is all sanctioned, not just by SecCom and Starfleet Command, but SFIC is aware too.
Still, Nathan would have preferred his way; getting surgically altered to look like a Klingon, and finding a way to get himself aboard the qoH. His wasn’t a foolproof plan, as the rub was getting picked to be part of a crew of pirates amongst honorless p’tahks in the first place. That was just one reason why his idea had been scrubbed before it ever even reached a brainstorming stage.
Instead his handlers opted for a safer, if much more dull and perhaps phobia inducing, option. The crates were scan-shielded, and designed in such a way to allow him some freedom of movement. A few of them were semi-attached together to make an elongated sort of ‘L’ shape, allowing him his present position, but also a chance to sit up as well. For the most part though, he was stuck. Nathan could monitor outside the crates with a variety of visual and auditory sensors. Though listening to the Klingons drivel about their lot in life, or hearing their cruelty, meant that unless the computer detected something he rarely turned them on.
Thankfully, there was a suite of medical functions run by the computer to allow him to pass the time in a torpor. All of his metabolic processes were slowed considerably, which is why he sometimes couldn’t tell his wakefulness from his dreams. The latter were quite lucid allowing him to navigate a vivid dreamscape, steering the course by making choices or even just thinking of making something different. It was lovely when the content was nice, but less so when he was reliving old memories. Ramius was in the middle of a particularly pleasant dream when he felt himself suddenly become aware.
Pulse quickening, Nathan’s eyelids shot open and he felt a surge of adrenaline; the computer had awakened him.
“Status report?”
[A general alert of the ship has been detected, along with the discharge of energy weapons.]
Nathan’s hands went up to a display, and he actively manipulated the sensors himself to see what the hell was going on. As he rapidly studied the logs, it seemed that the qoH had been boarded. Not just by anyone though, by a Starfleet vessel, as the energy discharge readings showed by disruptors and phasers being fired.
What dumb idiots… Nathan cut his own train of thought short. Whoever they were, there would have been no good way of knowing that Starfleet already had an operative aboard the ship. Not unless they reached out to one of his handlers.
Or unless one of my handlers made sure a starship crossed paths with the freighter. Maybe they realized something was going to go awry.
Feeling all of his senses return, and his body fidgeting for want of movement, Nathan considered his options as he turned on the external sensors. Unfortunately, the sensors provided him limited vision. The crates had been stacked in the cargo bay like some poorly played puzzle game. Switching to the auditory wasn’t much help either, as he could hear random bits of shouting, along with the Klingons declaring that there were intruders. The dilemma Nathan felt he now faced was exiting the crates and assisting the Starfleet officers, or staying put and letting the firefight take its course.
Not really a choice is it?
Nathan prepped himself, pushing himself into a sitting position and grabbing his gear; a mek’leth and his phaser pistol. He’d look out of place, in his civilian clothing, though he did decide to don his Starfleet comm badge too as he didn’t particularly want to get shot by friendly fire. Which did cause him a moment's hesitation. During a firefight, was it wise to insert himself and add possible confusion?
What if someone gets hurt because I didn’t try to help?
One specific memory hit him hard, causing Nathan to cringe and grimace. All at once, his world changed however. There was a sudden tilt to his crates, and it felt as though they were going to fall over.
Oh no…
Nathan slid back down into the bottom crate and tried to rotate himself as the crates toppled over. There was a shriek of pain that sounded very Klingon ringing out from the sensors, and Ramius was rightly glad that his mek’leth was sheathed properly. Had someone thrown or pushed another into the crates, Nathan wondered? Whatever the case was, he couldn’t stay in them any longer even if he wanted to.
Popping the seal on the side that faced up, Ramius carefully extricated himself from his tomb-like hovel. The Klingon, still in pain, was surely surprised to see a human suddenly appear from the very cargo they had been ferrying about. Nathan didn’t think twice, and shot the Klingon with a setting two stun to render them unconscious for a few minutes. That is when Nathan spotted two Security officers; likely the ones who tipped the crates over. Ramius pointed his phaser downward for a moment and put one hand upright, while the other pulled his trench coat to reveal the Starfleet comm badge.
“Lieutenant Commander Nathan Ramius, Starfleet Security,” he introduced himself briefly.
== tag Rubi! ==
At least I am doing it right this time. This is all sanctioned, not just by SecCom and Starfleet Command, but SFIC is aware too.
Still, Nathan would have preferred his way; getting surgically altered to look like a Klingon, and finding a way to get himself aboard the qoH. His wasn’t a foolproof plan, as the rub was getting picked to be part of a crew of pirates amongst honorless p’tahks in the first place. That was just one reason why his idea had been scrubbed before it ever even reached a brainstorming stage.
Instead his handlers opted for a safer, if much more dull and perhaps phobia inducing, option. The crates were scan-shielded, and designed in such a way to allow him some freedom of movement. A few of them were semi-attached together to make an elongated sort of ‘L’ shape, allowing him his present position, but also a chance to sit up as well. For the most part though, he was stuck. Nathan could monitor outside the crates with a variety of visual and auditory sensors. Though listening to the Klingons drivel about their lot in life, or hearing their cruelty, meant that unless the computer detected something he rarely turned them on.
Thankfully, there was a suite of medical functions run by the computer to allow him to pass the time in a torpor. All of his metabolic processes were slowed considerably, which is why he sometimes couldn’t tell his wakefulness from his dreams. The latter were quite lucid allowing him to navigate a vivid dreamscape, steering the course by making choices or even just thinking of making something different. It was lovely when the content was nice, but less so when he was reliving old memories. Ramius was in the middle of a particularly pleasant dream when he felt himself suddenly become aware.
Pulse quickening, Nathan’s eyelids shot open and he felt a surge of adrenaline; the computer had awakened him.
“Status report?”
[A general alert of the ship has been detected, along with the discharge of energy weapons.]
Nathan’s hands went up to a display, and he actively manipulated the sensors himself to see what the hell was going on. As he rapidly studied the logs, it seemed that the qoH had been boarded. Not just by anyone though, by a Starfleet vessel, as the energy discharge readings showed by disruptors and phasers being fired.
What dumb idiots… Nathan cut his own train of thought short. Whoever they were, there would have been no good way of knowing that Starfleet already had an operative aboard the ship. Not unless they reached out to one of his handlers.
Or unless one of my handlers made sure a starship crossed paths with the freighter. Maybe they realized something was going to go awry.
Feeling all of his senses return, and his body fidgeting for want of movement, Nathan considered his options as he turned on the external sensors. Unfortunately, the sensors provided him limited vision. The crates had been stacked in the cargo bay like some poorly played puzzle game. Switching to the auditory wasn’t much help either, as he could hear random bits of shouting, along with the Klingons declaring that there were intruders. The dilemma Nathan felt he now faced was exiting the crates and assisting the Starfleet officers, or staying put and letting the firefight take its course.
Not really a choice is it?
Nathan prepped himself, pushing himself into a sitting position and grabbing his gear; a mek’leth and his phaser pistol. He’d look out of place, in his civilian clothing, though he did decide to don his Starfleet comm badge too as he didn’t particularly want to get shot by friendly fire. Which did cause him a moment's hesitation. During a firefight, was it wise to insert himself and add possible confusion?
What if someone gets hurt because I didn’t try to help?
One specific memory hit him hard, causing Nathan to cringe and grimace. All at once, his world changed however. There was a sudden tilt to his crates, and it felt as though they were going to fall over.
Oh no…
Nathan slid back down into the bottom crate and tried to rotate himself as the crates toppled over. There was a shriek of pain that sounded very Klingon ringing out from the sensors, and Ramius was rightly glad that his mek’leth was sheathed properly. Had someone thrown or pushed another into the crates, Nathan wondered? Whatever the case was, he couldn’t stay in them any longer even if he wanted to.
Popping the seal on the side that faced up, Ramius carefully extricated himself from his tomb-like hovel. The Klingon, still in pain, was surely surprised to see a human suddenly appear from the very cargo they had been ferrying about. Nathan didn’t think twice, and shot the Klingon with a setting two stun to render them unconscious for a few minutes. That is when Nathan spotted two Security officers; likely the ones who tipped the crates over. Ramius pointed his phaser downward for a moment and put one hand upright, while the other pulled his trench coat to reveal the Starfleet comm badge.
“Lieutenant Commander Nathan Ramius, Starfleet Security,” he introduced himself briefly.
== tag Rubi! ==