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Old December 20 2012, 11:34 PM   #88
Rear Admiral
Re: UT: Refugee Crisis/Dark Territory-"Stealing Fire"

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USS Erickson
Holodeck One

Lt. Brocc was roused by the screaming. The Dimoran had sought to get in just a spot more of training before he was called into action. Accessing his favorite training program, safeties off, the Dimoran had immersed himself in a Tzenkethi War scenario. Perhaps it had something to do with racial memory, but he loved besting felinoid opponents; one of his few regrets being that he was too young during the Tzenkethi conflict to see if the reality would be as satisfying as his fantasies.

Brocc had just been about to separate the Tzenkethi Autarch’s furry head from his equally hirsute body, with the felinoid brute’s own scimitar, when his universe had turned upside down. When he awoke, his whole body was in pain. He blinked rapidly, spots flashing before his eyes. He lifted up, grimacing in pain. His arm hung loose and useless at his side. The lighted grid running crisscrossing the room was dim, which told him the Erickson was running on auxiliary power.

With his good hand, he tapped his combadge. There was no accompanying chirp. “The communications system is down too,” he mumbled. His eyes now adjusted to the wan lighting, Brocc recovered his phaser. Grunting with every movement, Brocc stuck the phaser in the belt of his uniform and stood up on shaky legs, one bruised knee especially protesting. He lurched to the door access panel. First he tried the intercom, hoping that the problem with his compin was localized. Not even getting static, he knew it was much bigger. “Door open,” he tried. Nothing happened. “Damn,” he grumbled, tapping in the code for a manual override.

The door screeched open, and the Dimoran jumped back instinctively as a shaft of sizzling crimson light passed by the door. He heard a sickening sizzle and then a thumb. He didn’t know who had been hit, but the security officer knew right off that the gunman was an enemy. Starfleet weapons didn’t emit red beams.

Yanking his phaser out of his belt, Brocc took a quick peek down the hall before he let off several shots. He had spotted two buccaneers and was pleased to hear two shrieks and thuds. Exhaling, his weapon at the ready, Brocc chanced taking another look out into the darkened hall. Two dark lumps lie before him.

His weapon steady, the Dimoran slowly approached them. They could be trying to deceive them. One was a Draylaxian and the other a stout Attrexian. But as he got closer, he saw that their weapons, one a Klingon-style disruptor, the other a Valerian compression rifle, were just out of reach of both men. To be certain though, Brocc shot them both again, on a harder stun setting. Turning from them, he eyed their victim.

His anger was stoked as he saw that the victim was an unarmed Antaran female, her blue uniform connoting that she was from the sciences division. Brocc said a quick prayer for her. He hadn’t known the fair-skinned humanoid, but she had been one of the nurses that had administered the hazard team’s final checkups in preparation for this mission.

A mission that had come to their doorstep, the Dimoran realized. “These bastards don’t know what they just stepped into,” he promised the dead woman.
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USS Erickson
Main Engineering

Chief Engineer A’nurd didn’t hesitate. With a war cry, he jumped on the console, turning quickly and used it to leap at the Gorn marauder. With claws and teeth bared his fingers dug into the startled reptilian’s large eye sockets like he was searching for plumb fruit. The massive lizard shrieked in agony, which only encouraged A’nurd to dig deeper. Ripping the wet orbs from both holes, A’nurd had only a second to celebrate his triumph before he was thrown from the wildly, thrashing, deeply wounded pirate.

He was still clutching the man’s eyes when he slammed into a bulkhead with such force that he could feel his skull cracking. Holding the gristly gift close to his chest, the Munzalan sank into oblivion.
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