Five years ago…

The forms of Commander Wright, Commander Nelson, and Lieutenant Monahan materialized on the transporter pad at the same time the man’s phaser dematerialized from his hand. It reappeared on the pad near Molly. The gray haired man looked at his empty hand, smiled and whispered, “Why you tricky little…” before making a dive for the phaser at Molly’s feet.

At the same time Aullar appeared at the door, her own phaser trained on the diving man.

Molly didn’t even have the time to get her bearings when the words uttered by the man reached her ears. With a downwards glance at the pad, she quickly realized what was the object of his attention. And then, everything seemed to happen at once, not giving Molly time to process it. Instead, she acted on instinct, and instinct alone, relying on her previous training as security officer to help her succeed. As the man she didn’t even get a good look at, dived for the phaser, Molly held one of her feet out, partially stepping in front of the weapon, blocking his way, hoping to either kick the phaser out of the man’s reach or to make him trip and fall. Her hands balled into fists and her arms rose to her chest, prepared for the impact that might or might not come.

Sylandra was partly relieved to see that her idea to take this man’s power of the situation away from him had worked, but she had also expected him to direct his anger towards her initially. At the speed that she had to implement her idea, she hadn’t had time to fully think out all the possible scenarios her actions would cause. And besides, she was an engineer and not part of security; she had always found that trying to predict what a person would do next was far more difficult compared to that of an engine or other mechanical device.

But she had tried to keep the man’s focus on her when she had set her idea into motion, just like a magician does to the victims of their tricks. Syl cringed slightly when the man started to make his move, expecting to be punished for her defiance, but recovered quickly when she noticed his trajectory was being aimed at the small group on the pad. With her hands still hovering close to the console, she acted as fast as she could. She exclaimed loudly, more for Molly than anyone else, pointing with her left hand at the object near her, “Commander, the phaser!” as the fingers of her right hand hit the LED button to put up the force field around the pad. She only needed to buy her friend a few precious seconds to gather her bearings of the situation, and once the man bounced off the field, she would release it in hopes that her ‘ex-oh’ would be able to incapacitate this man while she focused on getting the runabout safely away from the ship.

Gren “Grenadier” Aullar had a reputation or, more accurately, had reputations that preceded her. Nicknames had to be earned, had to be paid dues towards, and the Orion was unsurprisingly a stickler for her image.

A proper firing stance - both hands - with a focus to the dominant eye - left - to slightly adjust the aim of the barrel - this was Starfleet, incapacitate - to the shoulder of his main arm, Gren wouldn’t wait for the impact of the field. She hitched her breath in calm, practiced fluidity and squeezed her whole hand to push the trigger in between one beat of her heart. A second shot fired with the next.

The man did indeed bounce off of the force field and then bounced again when hit by Aullar’s expertly aimed phaser shot. He fell to the ground unconscious. Vrexi and Nelson might recognize him as the same gray haired man from engineering, Wright from the shuttlebay earlier, and Aullar, if she had taken notice of Admiral Whaley’s computer terminal, would remember his face from his starfleet profile picture, wearing an Admiral’s uniform.

The self-destruct timer, which was also counting down on the main terminal in the runabout, was at 30 seconds.

Seeing the older man, this saboteur, fall unceremoniously to the ground allowed Sylandra the opportunity to finally relax, if only for a brief moment, as she refocused herself to the task she had originally come to the shuttle bay for. To get them all off the ship safely. Tapping the transporter console one last time, the force field she had just put up deactivated, allowing freedom to those on the pad again, as the Bolian leaped toward the pilot’s seat of the runabout.

“Everyone get inside and grab a hold of something, this might get a little bumpy,” she spoke loud enough for all that were conscious to hear as she started to punch the LEDs on the new console in front of her. The task of the pre-flight check had already been taken care of so after a few seconds to allow the Orion to fully enter the runabout, Syl initiated the hatch to close as the runabout started to lift itself off the bay floor. Luckily the phaser toting, green skinned commander had gotten the bay doors open before returning. Syl wouldn’t need to activate the weapons systems to open them herself, but she did need to work around the Monty’s active shields still.

Syl started to turn the hovering runabout, allowing it to face the open bay doors, she then mumbled to herself again, “shield modulation, gotta match the shield modulation …” as she linked the runabout’s computer up to the Montgomery one last time, making sure their frequency matched those of the starship’s, allowing the runabout to pass through effortlessly.

Once she could see the openness of space, Syl angled the nose of the craft for a clear shot over the starbase, “I hope everyone is strapped in or holding onto something because we are leaving,” she then ignited the runabout’s impulse engines at maximum thrust, throwing all caution to the proverbial wind. Once the runabout cleared the shuttle bay doors, she would activate their own shields, focusing most of the power to the aft to absorb the brunt of the explosion if her plan didn’t work. Making sure the runabout had a path clear of any obstructions or objects nearby the starbase, she programmed in a short three second jump to warp one, hopefully getting the tiny craft far enough away to avoid the shockwave and debris that would come from an exploding starship. She then waited, as the little runabout’s engines started making that all too familiar sound it made moments before entering a warp field bubble.

The runabout made it safely through the shields thanks to the link Vrexi had established with the Montgomery. The quick jump to warp did indeed put space between them and the Montgomery. And just in time, too, as the count down reached its final moments.

5… 4… 3… 2… 1…

And…

Suddenly, the doors to sickbay whooshed open. A man entered, half carrying an unconscious woman, bleeding profusely from her chest. “I don’t know what happened,” the man stammered. “We were standing there talking when all of a sudden something flew at her out of nowhere and was gone just as quickly. It looked like some sort of cat or something though I didn’t get a good look at it. She started bleeding where it hit her and then collapsed a few moments later.”

The dark haired woman began to convulse violently. A white foamy substance began dripping from her mouth. “Somebody, please help!” the man carrying her screamed. Not knowing what to do, he laid the patient on the nearest biobed. Blood could be seen spewing from an injury near her right knee. The man ran around excitedly looking for someone, anyone to help.

NE Brown, a young man who barely looked old enough to be out of the Academy, rushed over. “Put her on the bed!” NE Brown called out and he approached the pair. He threw open a nearby supply cabinet, pulling out a few gauze pads. Tossing one to the man, he said, “Apply pressure to the wound on her leg.” He subsequently used a gauze pad to apply pressure to the wound on her chest as well. He was hoping that he could get the bleeding to at least slow so that he could properly scan the woman and see what was happening to her.

Once the woman was on the bed, NE Brown would recognize her as none other than the Chief of Security, Belle Harper. The bleeding wasn’t stopping. Her convulsions worsened. She wasn’t doing well at all.

Belle’s convulsions reached a climax. Her bio readings started dropping drastically. She was coding. Suddenly Belle grew still as she flat lined.

=/\= Wright to Sickbay, please report on Lieutenant Harper’s current condition. =/\=

NE Brown appeared quite overwhelmed at the events of the last few moments. People calling for a status update, and the monitors going crazy as Belle flat lined. The NE looked at the readings, and knew there was nothing more that could be done. Belle Harper was dead.

He decided to respond to Commander Wright. =/\= Commander, I regret to inform you that Lieutenant Harper has died. =/\=

In the main shuttle bay…

If there were any reaction from the Marine, it wasn’t immediately visible. Years of combat conditioning prepared him for moments like this… but this… this was so different. The moment took Harris’ breath away… took him back to the moment he found out Vanessa was gone. As the deck plating beneath him felt as though it was beginning to fall away, a steely resolve washed over him… like a tidal wave of emotion then… complete focus and clarity. He now knew she was gone and, with his heart breaking within him, the Marine locked on course to do what Marines do best… break & kill things.

Molly’s body went rigid. Her jaw clenched and her lips tightly pressed in a thin line. She felt as if she couldn’t breathe. It couldn’t be. The officer had to be mistaken. Belle couldn’t be gone. Not like this. Not a victim of an attack from unknown creatures some incompetent officer had let loose on the ship by accident. It had to be a mistake. In her short stay between them she had changed too many things, touched too many lives… and without even knowing, she had changed Molly as well. She had been a friend, and someone was going to be held responsible, even if she had to open a full investigation on what had happened in the Biology lab.

An Evening With Belle…

Cal punched in the parameters of the program then stepped inside and onto the top deck of the U.S.S. Sequoia, the United States’ only Presidential Yacht. The wooden, polished deck shimmered in the setting sun as a warm late summer breeze blew across New York Harbor. The flags on the yacht clapped gently in the breeze as Cal took in his favorite Holo-sim… a sunset cruise around the Harbor, casting off from the foot of Lady Liberty herself. Taking a glass of champagne from the ship’s Steward, Cal took in the evening as he awaited Belle’s arrival.

Belle had taken her time getting ready, as girls should when meeting a man for dinner. Fashionably late, the doors slid open. As Belle entered, the sun glinted brightly off her dress. She wore a shimmering silver gown that hung from her neck in a plunging neckline nearly to her navel. A wicked slit exposed her caramel thigh as she walked. Her hair was up. A red tropical flower pinned it in place. The gown moved like liquid as her body slowly slinked forward. Taking a glass of champagne as it was offered, she smiled, never taking her eyes off Cal for a moment. “Fancy meeting you here,” she said, the sun sparkling in the sea, on her dress, and in her eyes.

Cal practically purred as Belle walked onto the Sequoia’s deck. “Wow…” He said breathlessly. “… you are quite the vision, my love.” He stepped to her, sliding his fingers of his powerful right hand across the small of her back. With a roguishly charming smirk, Cal pulled her ever so slightly against him. “I was beginning to think you weren’t coming.” He then leaned in and softly, teasingly kissed the nape of her neck.

As his head craned up and his lips passed her ear, he whispered seductively. “However, I can see now… it was certainly worth the wait.”

The look in his eyes as they found hers was intoxicating. Leaning in, he took the evening’s first kiss, pulling her curves against him.

When the kiss broke, he asked… his hand still intimate in it’s placement on the small of her back… “So, what do you think? I always loved the Big Apple at night.”