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Grave Digger

Posted on Sat Feb 18th, 2017 @ 11:02pm by Lieutenant Commander Brenan Stowe & Lieutenant JG Tate Sullivan Ph.D.

Mission: No Quarter
Location: Planetside - Bar
Timeline: ((Back Post))

He Much to his displeasure, one of them had to stay behind. They couldn't simply leave Linnea to rot on this god forsaken moon, and it made since to let it be the Counselor. She was pretty, quiet, and unassuming, and more than that, Brenan trusted her more than anyone else with them to keep their emotions at bay and deal with the travesty at hand.

The bar patrons mulled around for a bit, ignoring the bodies, until finally one of the large bouncers came in and hefted them unceremoniously onto his shoulders and grumbled his way out the door, their blood staining his tan shirt crimson as it rolled down his back.

Tate didn't know what she expected the natives to do with the body of their former science officer and her compatriots, but as she watched in horror as the bodies of her former crewmates start to move away from her, Sullivan knew she just couldn't let that stand. None of them deserved to die, let alone die the way they had, and though she knew enough to wait a few moments before she followed the bouncer, she went after him nevertheless. She was not about to report back that not only had they lost members of their crew, but that Tate had just stood there and watched someone else take the bodies God knew where.

The man lugged the four tiny bodies down down a narrow corridor behind the bar. As Tate walked, she heard something clatter behind her but nothing was there. She followed the bouncer through buildings and alleys until they finally reached some sort of dumping site where he threw them onto a pile of rubble and turned around to head back to the bar.

Adrenaline and intense anger urged her to come out from hiding and confront the man, but thankfully, logic overtook her thoughts and she realized nothing good could come from giving into those impulses. The rest of the away team had no idea where she was, and grief or not, she was risking her own death to defend what she didn't unkindly believe were shells that formerly hosted souls that were now elsewhere. She decided her best bet was to wait for the man to depart and then to approach the corpses. Even though she knew as she thought it, checking for any signs of life would be useless, the healer in her couldn't deny herself even that. She waited and watched as he turned away from her, and prepared herself to spring into action as soon as she believed it was safe.

The man stopped for a moment to relieve himself against a wall, and then was gone, leaving her alone with the trash and the bodies.

Tate looked away as the man relieved himself, more out of anger than embarrassment and waited for him to leave. Then, reaching for her phaser, she stood from her hiding place, and checking one last time for others, she stepped out and walked toward her gravely wounded crew members. She knew it was probably pointless to check, but her heart and her training told her she had to know officially there was no hope.

She moved briskly, not eager to get to her task, but not wanting to risk getting caught either. At first, she was hesitant to make contact with me unmoving bodies before her, feeling somehow it was wrong for her to touch them without permission, even though she understood such a thought was irrational. Sullivan pushed through that, however, and quickly determined what she knew to be true, was, in fact, really true. Once She Determined the Chief Science Officer was deceased, she moved to feel for the pulses of the others with less hesitance. Now, all she wanted to do was get the ghastly business over with.

In her emotional state, she'd almost forgotten they'd each brought transporter transponders with them, tags which would allow them to transport people back to the shuttle in the event they were injured or just needed to come back to offer information. Reaching for them, Tate suddenly couldn't remember how many she'd brought with her and swallowed the lump in her throat as she prayed she would have enough. She couldn't stay here and wait to be caught, and she damn sure wasn't going to leave any member of the crew behind.

"There's always a handler for rodents like that," Came a gruff voice from behind her, followed by the high-pitched whine of a disruptor charging up.

The voice startled Tate and for a brief second, she had to consider what to do next. The high-pitched sound was immediately recognized and Sullivan realized if she had any hope of survival, she had to draw her own phaser. She turned and did just that, offering, "Look, I don't want any trouble. I just want an opportunity to properly bury my friends here."

"You got your damn rats sneakn' around my establishment and spyin' on my guests, and you think you ain't gonna get trouble? You think I'm just going to let you take your friend's bodies and go? Do you know what we do to spies around here?" He asked, closing the gap between them, seemingly unimpressed by the show of her phaser.

The man towered over her, covered head to toe in tattoos and scars. One eye was almost completely white from scaring, save for a tiny sliver of blue where his pupil and iris had been at one time. He chomped on a fat cigar, the musty sent permeating the air. His hands didn't waver as he approached her, and his finger rested dangerously on the trigger of his disruptor pistol.

The fact that she hadn't been shot on sight was a miracle in itself and just as Tate gave herself a nanosecond to be grateful she was still alive, she also knew instantly that if she could keep him talking, every second represented another second she had to live. She didn't have much of a plan beyond that, but she had to hope at some point, reinforcements would arrive. Getting people to talk to her was a strength of hers, after all, and perhaps if he was still talking, it meant he just wanted to be understood and didn't really want to kill her after all. Of course, given what she'd already witnessed, that probably wasn't true, but mentally, she had to tell herself something to stave off the terror. Keeping a grip on her phaser, Sullivan managed to keep her tone even and mostly self-assured.

"I watched my friends get shot right in front of my eyes. I think I know what you do to spies already. Look, I'm not trying to defend what they did. All I want is to give them a proper burial so that they can enter the next life in reasonable peace. You have every right to be suspicious of anyone around you that isn't more straightforward with their intentions, and I'm sorry we didn't just approach you more directly for the information we sought. Maybe you would have given us nothing, but at least you wouldn't have had to be concerned about our ultimate intentions. I don't blame you for wanting to shoot first and ask questions later. I can see you've been hurt before, and that would make anyone angry and especially suspicious of strangers. For what it's worth, I'm sorry we weren't more honorable."

The burly man narrowed his eyes and let out a long, low, "Uhm..." Not entirely sure what to do with a person who apologized to him when he had a disruptor on them, "Yeah... Yeah, you should have been," He finally growled back, "Yeah, you shoulda! Too late for that shit now, though!" He said, seemingly regaining his dubious mental footing. "I can't think of any reason not to put a hole right through you!" He said, taking a menacing step forward.

Slightly encouraged that she'd managed to take him off guard, Tate continued, "Maybe because if you do that, I won't be able to help make sure you get access to proper medical care? I can see you've been injured more than once, and as I said, I don't blame you for being suspicious and concerned about strangers because of that, but what if I could bring you to a qualified doctor who could treat your injuries and perhaps help you feel better?"

"I DON'T HAVE TIME FOR THIS!" He roared, stomping a step forward, but still not firing.

It took everything Tate had not to ask him if he had more people to murder, but she resisted, shifting her weight to her other foot as a subtle reminder to herself to keep her composure. "You don't have time to tend to your injuries and ensure you'll continue living?"

"I don't have time to figure out why the hell you're being nice to me, when I'm trying to kill you!" Be barked back.

Suddenly, there was a blue flash from behind him and his eyes rolled back in his head and after a moment, he slumped to the ground, unconscious.

"Wow... close call," Brenan said, grinning proudly.

The sound of the weapon startled Tate and as she watched the man who had murdered her colleagues and who had been so close to murdering her slumped to the ground, at first, she wasn't sure she could entirely trust that what she was seeing was real. When the roaring in her ears died down from the pounding in her heart and she realized the danger had passed, she couldn't understand why Brenan was smiling and at the moment, she didn't particularly care. "We need to get out of here. I'll put transport tags on our casualties."

"Now that, I agree with wholeheartedly," Brenan replied. He tapped his commbadge, "Stowe to Samedi, stand by, then beam me, Doc Sullivan, and our mousian friends up to the shuttle on my mark... beam the mousians directly to sickbay... for what it's worth," He said, his voice grim.

"Standing by." was Hel's reply. She sounded grim, given the situation.

"Got those transponders set?" Brenan asked Tate.

"Set," Tate replied in a monotone. She knew there was no hope, will but it was a reasonable gesture on his part.

Brenan nodded at her response, then tapped his badge again, "Alright, Hel. Do it," Brenan called.

A moment later, they were engulfed in light.

 

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